Jeux D'esprit
by Cooptown
Summary: A car carrying two agents crashes in the night, and it isn't an accident. The team isn't coming for them, and the unsub is getting closer. At this point, survival is all that matters.
1. Chapter 1

**Starting two multi-chapter fics at the same time is probably not a good idea. **

**But I'm gonna do it anyway. **

**This starts with a car crash, but there's more to it, I promise. (: **

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**_**Jeux D'esprit – Chapter 1**_

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**_"Reid," Morgan murmured irately, "I think we're gonna need to pull over, or find someplace to stay for the night. It's getting bad."

They'd been driving for three and half hours when the weather began taking a turn for the worse. The SUV had been faring pretty well on the ice-slick roads thus far, but Morgan could feel his control of the vehicle slipping when the winds came down harder.

Reid stirred in the passenger seat, having been half-asleep in the embrace of the heated leather seat. He readjusted before leaning back again, eyes closed.

"Go ahead, then, if you think we need to," the young profiler murmured, fingers touching the cell phone that was nestled in the center console. "Do you need me to call Hotch and tell him?"

"Yeah, go ahead," Morgan replied, holding the wheel in a white-knuckled grip. The SUV kept drifting from either side of the one-lane road, and Morgan was straining to keep it upright. The winds were powerful, and he hoped the car wouldn't end up turned over on the road. Reid didn't seem too concerned.

The car swerved once while Reid was on the phone, and he quickly ended the call and slipped the phone into his pocket, looking at Morgan with a furrowed brow.

"You worried now?" Morgan asked, one dark brow lifted. Reid looked away, out the window and into the pure blackness of the woods on his side of the road.

"A little," he said, "but you've always been a maniac behind the wheel. You'll get us through this mess."

"Hey, I appreciate the confidence kid," Morgan said, one corner of his mouth upturned in a smile. Reid was about to reply when something hit the windshield with a loud crack.

"What the _hell?" _Morgan hissed. Reid shook his head, frowning.

"Hail. It's starting to hail; this it's only going to get worse. If we're going to pull over we need to do it like, soon." He leaned up to look in the rearview mirror. "Looks like we're the only ones on the road, too."

"Well, it's four in the goddamn morning," Morgan said grumpily, "we're the only morons out here working at this ungodly hour. One problem, though."

"What's that?" Reid asked, fingers drumming on his knee anxiously.

"We're in the middle of a dark road, surrounded by woods on one side and a rocky mountain on the other. We're still going to have to get into town before we can find a hotel to stay in. Which means, we still have to drive. Therefore, we might as well head back to our original hotel and meet up with the others."

"Unless we can find a closer one," Reid said, cringing as several chunks of hail struck the passenger window.

The hail was blinding them now, coming down in heavy chunks at the windshield and windows. Morgan was straining to keep the SUV straight when he felt it sliding on the ice.

"Shit, shit!" Morgan cursed as the vehicle slid to the right. He jerked the wheel left and slammed the brakes.

As soon as his foot hit the pedal, several things happened at once. The wheels didn't even begin to slow, and there was a deafening pop before the car jumped violently. Morgan leaned into the wheel, gripping it tightly and shouting something that couldn't be heard over the wind. He glanced at Reid, seeing the younger agent lunge for the handle at the top of the door, looking startled.

The suburban's right tires slid over the edge of the ravine, and it sank for a few seconds before dragging the rest of the massive SUV with it. Morgan and Reid shouted and cursed, scrambling to remain upright while the car slid rapidly down the slope toward the woods. They hit something, and the car flipped once, then again before it smashed into the trunk of a tree.

Morgan caught a brief glimpse of broken glass flying before his head hit the wheel and the blackness set in.

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**Rather short, but I was going to make it a prologue. I just decided to make a short first chapter instead. Part two will be posted asap. Please review and let me know what you think. (: **

**WARNING: Next chapter will contain serious whump and will be gory and graphic. **

**- Shark**


	2. Chapter 2

**Note: I don't have a beta, so please point out any typos you see and I'll fix them. If you're interested in being a beta, I'd love to have one.**

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**_**Jeux D'esprit – Chapter 2**_

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The first thing Morgan was aware of when he came to was the smell. The woodsy scent of pine and dirt had invaded his senses, and he felt his brow furrow even as he struggled to open his eyes. He succeeded, and he realized where the smell was coming from. The SUV's front windows had been shattered, and they were surrounded by trees.

Glancing back over his shoulder and ignoring the throbbing pain in his head, Morgan could see the road several yards above them, up the slope. The snow was ridged with tire tracks from when they'd slid down, and Morgan noted with relief that the hail had stopped, and now there was only a light snowfall.

A voice kept echoing in his head, a name; but his thoughts were so foggy he couldn't focus on it. He was aware of someone else with him, but he couldn't pinpoint the feeling. He shifted, and a sharp stab of pain in his thigh made him glance down. He immediately regretted it, seeing a thin, broken limb of tree lodged into his flesh. He felt nauseous. Blood had already soaked through his pant leg and was streaming down onto the floorboard in ruby rivulets.

He gathered his thoughts enough to assess his damage. Aside from the obvious puncture of his leg, he couldn't see any outward signs of injury, but he knew he was far from unscathed. A throbbing in his shoulder and head indicated a concussion and a broken shoulder. He bit his lip, muffling a curse. He blinked to clear his foggy vision, and his impossibly dark eyes widened when his thoughts cleared and he remember his partner.

"Reid," he croaked, turning his head with difficulty to look to his right. The young profiler was sitting upright, head turned toward him. His face looked peaceful, but Morgan's gaze caught on the streams of red liquid leaking from the corner of his partner's slightly parted lips. There was a cut on his temple, but Morgan didn't focus on that. His gaze shifted downwards and he felt the breath being sucked from his lungs when he vision caught on the gruesome sight.

He'd presumed the thin branch in his thigh had been broken from a larger one, and his thoughts were confirmed when he saw the sharpened end of the tree's main limb buried in Reid's torso. Morgan's eyes were wide when he leaned to glance behind the seat. As an FBI agent, he was trained to remain neutral when facing gruesome, gory scenes, but the sight of the branch, torn through the back of the seat and thus through his friend's body, he felt himself gag.

It took several seconds of deep breathing to get the urge to vomit to abate, and Morgan leaned back in his seat, rubbing his temples before reaching over to shake Reid's shoulder. Morgan didn't need to say his name; Reid opened his eyes at once and they rolled over to look at him. They were shiny and wet, but Morgan didn't think Reid was crying. Just shocked.

"Reid?" Morgan tried, his voice sounding weaker than he thought it would. The younger agent strained, his body tensing visibly. He coughed, more blood seeping from his mouth, and he clenched his hand that Morgan noticed was resting on the center console between them. He eased his own hand over Reid's, squeezing it reassuringly.

"Can you talk?" Morgan tried again, studying Reid's face. He noted in dismay that the car had hit the tree on the passenger side, and the door was crumpled inward, pressed against Reid's body perfectly. The window was smashed but the branch obstructed most of the view of the outside.

"Try…ing," Reid whispered hoarsely, fingers twitching in Morgan's hand. He opened his eyes again and looked at Morgan, appearing calm despite his labored breath and trembling body. He touched the branch with his free hand, attempting to push it away.

"Whoa, hey," Morgan murmured, "stop that. It doesn't hurt now because you're in shock, but it will. If you pull that out, you'll bleed to death. I know you know that, Reid."

Reid did know that; but he wasn't thinking clearly. He felt so dizzy, and cold.

"What the hell happened?" Morgan sighed, leaning back and struggling against the urge to close his eyes and rest. He knew Reid would reprimand him about the effects of a concussion and how sleeping with one was not a good idea.

"Right when you hit the breaks," Reid said, his rough voice just above a whisper, "something crashed… the car jerked." He paused, taking a few slow, deep breaths. "The brakes… didn't work."

"An explosion under the car?" Morgan wheezed, confused. "The brakes didn't work, and if there was a bomb too…"

"There's no way… the car wasn't tampered with," Reid concluded, cringing. His vision was doubling. He felt Morgan's fingers clench over his and it brought him back around. He tried to sit up straighter, but he was pinned. "But who…?"

Morgan shook his head. "We'll think of that later," he was surprising himself with his own lucidity. His body was in agony. "We have to call Hotch. They don't know to look for us and they won't find us stranded out here like this."

"If the thing under my foot is my cell phone, I don't think we'll be able to," Reid murmured, glancing down to see the crushed device on the floorboard. Bits of plastic were scattered, most of it hidden by his shoe. He felt his eyes slip shut.

"Can you move?" Reid whispered without looking at him.

Morgan tilted his head. "I can, yeah…" he didn't like where Reid was undoubtedly going with this.

"You have to go for help," the younger agent said, looking at him again. "We don't have another option; if we don't get help, we're going to _die._ I'm twenty-eight, I don't want to die yet if I can help it."

Morgan couldn't help the faint smile that blossomed at his friend's statement. "You aren't gonna die, Reid. I don't want to leave you here alone, but…"

"No choice," Reid muttered, panting. "There's no telling how long we were unconscious… go up to the road, see if cars come by. Try… you gotta try…"

Morgan gripped the handle of the door and pushed it open. It creaked, but ultimately gave in and swung outward. He leaned to get out but paused, looking back at Reid.

"Promise me something kid," He said suddenly. Reid looked at him. "Stay awake until I come back, okay? I don't know how long I'll be gone, but just try. I'm coming back."

"Yeah," Reid replied, settling back against the seat. Morgan gripped the branch in his leg and broke it off as close to his flesh as he could. He hissed through his teeth and resisted the urge to cry out. He stepped out of the car, and his knee almost buckled when he put weight on his bad leg, but he held strong.

Morgan limped up the slope as best he could, using roots as handholds. He blinked rapidly when his vision began to swim, but sheer willpower kept him from passing out. He collapsed when he made it to the road. He leaned back against a small, young tree, half on the icy road and half on the snow.

His dark eyes glanced up at the sky, relieved to see it was light out. The car had crashed around four, if it was light out, he was guessing it was around seven in the morning. With any luck, traffic would start coming through soon.

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The sound of an approaching car tore Morgan from his light doze. He had no clue how long he'd been out, but he staggered to his feet when he saw a vehicle approaching.

"Hey!" He called weakly, waving his arms. He said a silent _thank you_ to the powers that be when the car slowed and stopped beside him. The window rolled down, and a man sat in the drivers seat. He didn't look much older than Morgan.

"Holy hell, you need some help?" He asked, watching the wounded FBI agent struggling to remain upright.

_Obviously. _"Yes," Morgan breathed, "can I borrow your phone…? My friend is down there, he's in trouble too. Our car crashed."

The man offered Morgan his phone, and his fingers had just closed around the device when he heard a loud crash from down where the SUV rested. Stiffening, Morgan shoved the phone back in the man's hand.

"Call 911!" Morgan shouted, already stumbling back down the slope as fast as his ruined leg would allow.

The man watched Morgan go for a moment before slipping the phone back into his pocket, having no intention whatsoever of dialing 911.

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**This chapter: Sorry for the gruesomeness. I'm going to say now, I'm not a doctor so I'm just winging it here. It's probably not possible for Reid to survive for an extended amount of time being impaled like that, and Morgan would probably be much less lucid with a bad concussion, but bear with me; it's a story. :P **

**Next chapter: We find out a little about what happened to cause the accident, catch up with the rest of the team and learn about our case. **

**This fic will probably work backwards a little bit. Why the unsub caused the accident is related to their case, and it'll all be revealed in due time. **

**Starting now, I'm going to try to update once a week. Probably on Fridays or Saturdays, we'll see. **

**Please read and review. (: **

**- Shark **


	3. Chapter 3

**Thanks for such a nice response! There was an inspiring amount of favorites/alerts on this, but only a few reviews. I'm not complaining though, it's nice that people like this at all. Thanks so much!**

**On to chapter three!**

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**_**Jeux D'esprit – Chapter 3**_

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"We're ready to give the profile," Hotch said, closing the file in his hand.

Emily looked up. "Without Morgan and Reid?"

The unit chief looked at her sharply. "They were forced off the road last night and into a different hotel. They'll show up later."

The sheriff of the Winchester Police Department stuck his head into the small office. "Are we gonna hear your information anytime soon?"

Emily stood, following Hotch as he swept out of the room.

"Yes, we'll tell your officers our profile now."

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Morgan stumbled clumsily down the slope, fighting to stay upright on his injured leg. He leaned against the SUV when he got to it, peering through his open window to look at Reid, scouting for further damage.

Reid was just as he'd been when Morgan left. He was awake like he'd promised, watching Morgan tiredly.

"Back window," he murmured as means of explanation. Morgan glanced in the back to see that the rear right window that had been pressed against the tree trunk had given in to the pressure and had shattered inward.

"Who…?" Reid wheezed, and Morgan turned to see the man from the truck standing behind him. Morgan blinked, startled.

"What are you doing?" Morgan asked, "I needed you to call 911. We need help."

The man just stared and it was suddenly obvious to Morgan that he wasn't normal. No, he was very psychologically disturbed.

"Your leg doesn't look good," he said blandly, moving to get past Morgan to get a look at Reid. At this point, the younger profiler was out cold. His promise to Morgan hadn't been enough to keep his body going. "And he doesn't look good at all," the strange man muttered in an almost singsong fashion. "What if you die? It looks like he's going to die soon. So much blood, it's all over the windshield, the seats…"

Morgan studied him for a moment before he heard Reid's voice echoing in his mind from yesterday.

_Partners, most likely. The dominant partner is messy and unorganized; he does a hack job. The submissive partner checks the handiwork of the dominant partner and cleans up afterward. He will follow any orders given to him by the dominant partner, no matter what is it. Look for someone who seems a little odd, but not someone who would be immediately recognized as a psychopath._

Morgan decided that he was looking at the submissive partner, so he immediately tried a different approach. "Do you know Damon Wagner?

The man's expression became suddenly neutral. "No," he said slowly, "should I?"

The profiler picked up immediately that he was lying. _So you do know him, lying son of a bitch. _"Look," Morgan tried again, "I know you know him. My partner is _dying _in there, man. If you call 911, I can help you. I'll… I'll try get you on minimal charges for the murders-"

"I have nothing to do with murders!" He yelled in reply, backing away from Morgan. Morgan reached out to grab him but the suspect had already turned and was jogging back up the slope faster than Morgan could follow on an injured leg.

The unsub reached his car and he looked down at Morgan, watching helplessly from below. "I'd check under your car," he said simply, getting into the truck. Morgan felt useless as he drove away. He and Reid were alone again, and one of the unsubs of the case they were working had just taunted them and driven away. Without calling 911.

He clenched a fist, resisting the urge to lash out. Being angry now wouldn't help their situation any. Morgan braced one hand against the warped black metal of the SUV and painstakingly knelt down, looking under the vehicle and reaching a hand underneath. He felt the different fragments of the bomb that'd been under it, and he rifled until he found a loose piece of metal near the front left tire. He pulled it loose, leaning back to look at it.

It was a thin sheet of metal, with a note inscribed on it. It said in shaky script, _Don't stick your nose where it doesn't belong. _And that was it. Morgan tried looking at it in different angles, turning it over and trying to decipher some hidden meaning, but it seemed the unsubs had gotten straight to the point.

Slipping the metal shard into his pocket, Morgan stood shakily and made his way around to the other side of the car, leaning heavily against the ruined vehicle. He frowned when he made it to Reid's window, the tree limb obstructing any view he could've gotten of his friend. He needed something to cut the branch with, but all he had was a Swiss army knife. He pulled the device from his pocket, staring at it. It was so small.

"Goddammit," he cursed, flipping it open to a thin serrated blade. He began sawing into the tree. The branch wasn't very thick, perhaps only two inches in diameter, but it was still going to take a while to saw through with such a tiny blade.

Morgan got about halfway through the wood when he decided to try another approach. Pocketing the blade, he grabbed the branch. He watched Reid's still face for a sign of discomfort, but he'd been unconscious the entire time. It was worrying. Murmuring a silent apology, Morgan twisted his wrist harshly. The bark splintered and in a moment, the branch had snapped. He'd had to get into the back seat of the car to do the second half, and remove the branch from the back.

Reid winced and seemed to come to life; Morgan cringed at his quiet moans while he pulled the branch from the car to set it on the ground. Now that he could see Reid, he contemplated how to get the car door open, considering half of it was pressed against the base of the tree.

"Stay with me kid," Morgan murmured, limping back around to the driver's side of the car. He opened the door and slid back into the seat, eyeing Reid with no small amount of concern. "Do you think you could get out of the car on this side?"

Reid made a soft, pained noise and Morgan could see him straining again. He'd broken the branch off as much as he could, but it was still cutting into Reid's thin form and Morgan knew he wouldn't last long without help.

"I can try," Reid whispered dazedly, "if you can help."

"Let's just put you in the backseat," Morgan said, "so you can lie down. I've got some hoodies in my go bag you can prop up on."

It took some maneuvering, especially because Reid was very nearly dead weight, but Morgan eventually managed to tug Reid's slender form from the seat. He climbed into the backseat and sat on the floorboard, helping Reid move sluggishly back as well, until he was exhaustedly sprawled on the cool leather.

Morgan glanced at his blood-slick hands, a frown touching his face. He needed to get supplies, but he knew his leg wouldn't support his weight much longer. He tore a long strip from his white tshirt and tied it tightly around his thigh. It reddened with blood, but the cold had slowed the bleeding considerably. He didn't know if the same held true for Reid.

The loosening of the branch in his abdomen had allowed a fresh rush of blood to flow from the edges of the wound. Reid's entire front was wet with the fluid, his once white-shirt now scarlet. His breaths were loud and labored, rattling in his chest; it made Morgan wonder what other damage Reid had acquired.

The snow began to pick up again, and Morgan felt the exhaustion creeping into him. He couldn't fight the fatigue much longer. He closed the door of the SUV, despite that fact that it wouldn't keep much of the cold out because of the shattered windows. He readjusted his position on the floorboard of the car, leaning back against the seats and feeling Reid's arm on his back. He was relieved to feel that Reid's skin was warm; plenty warm. Derek took comfort in the thought.

"Hang tight kid," he said hoarsely, feeling his headache return with full force. "We'll get out of this. We always do."

Reid didn't reply, but he started shivering; feeling the icy chill seep into his bones, even in unconsciousness.

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**NOTE: Posting tonight because tomorrow I'm going out to hang out with my boyfriend and best friend to see How to Train your Dragon… again. I'd like to start making the chapters a lot longer and then posting them once a week. I guess I'm just on a roll right now because it's a new story and I'm excited about it, I don't really know. **

**THIS CHAPTER: Yeah, so that guy didn't exactly help. What do you think he was doing? Checking out his 'partner's' handiwork? Or is there something else going on? **

**NEXT CHAPTER: Back with the rest of the team, we'll learn what the case is about, the profile, the unsubs, and from that you all can predict (because I know you're all brilliant profilers too :P) what's going to happen with Reid and Morgan. Oh, and those two are in for a hell of a surprise next chapter.**

**Anyway.**

**Please read and review and let me know what you think, even if you just say 'update, bitch.' Seriously, anything at all is really appreciated. Thanks! (: **

**Until next time, **

**Shark**

**(btw I don't know how that little metal sheet with the note didn't melt in the explosion, bear with me. XD) **


	4. Chapter 4

**It's weird… I'm getting little response to this, but the response I **_**am **_**getting is incredibly inspirational. Thanks guys. (: **

**Back again; hope you're ready for this 'cause shit's about to go down. **

**(And LOL I just saw a commercial and it was a wrecked car with a branch through the windshield. Irony.) **

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**_**Jeux D'esprit – Chapter Four**_

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**_The Virginia woods were quiet during the evening, a rich array of flora and fauna in an elegant display of wildlife and nature at its most natural. The thin blanket of snow that coated the normally dewy ground was a beautiful sight. The white sheet lay gently across the ground, and ice frosted on the trees made the environment look like something out of a postcard.

A narrow road passing through Winchester was bordered on one side by these beautiful woods, and by a rocky mountainside on the other. It was silent out, the natural flow of things undisturbed by outside forces. Or so it seemed.

Six miles from the nearest town center on this very road, the icy roadside was disturbed. The snow had been dredged up and down the slope, between several massive trees, lay a mangled SUV. The wreck was hours old, the smoke already gone and the heat from the vehicle gone.

In the ruined car, Derek Morgan stirred. He opened his dark eyes, and was immediately hit with dying sunlight. He winced, pressing a hand to his forehead and biting back a groan. He noted with dismay that his left leg was completely numb; with the injury as bad as it was, Morgan didn't know if that was a good thing.

Sitting up in the rear seat of the car, he pushed the door on the driver's side open, allowing more light to pour in. Instincts rooted deeply, he subconsciously did a sweep of the scene outside. The different sets of tire tracks were noticed instantly. Someone had been to their accident scene, repeatedly.

"If that's the case," Morgan murmured dazedly, "why are we still here?" He was baffled as to why someone would find them and not call 911. Unless…

Mouth set in a grim line, the agent turned to face his partner, still laid out on the backseat. Reid's skin was devoid of color, unlike last night.

"What'sit?" Reid asked drowsily without moving or opening his eyes. "I can feel you… staring at me." His fingers clenched the seat and he winced, trying to sit up.

"Reid," Morgan started, his voice urgent. "Someone's been back here, at least twice so far."

Reid's strained breathing was the only sound for a few moments before he roused the strength to respond. "Has… has anything been tampered with?"

Morgan shrugged one shoulder, hands clenching in frustration. He met Reid's cloudy eyes. "We need to go over the profile."

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Rossi folded his hands, leaning forward in his seat in the small office room of the Winchester Police Department. JJ stood in front of him, staring at the whiteboard with their unsub's information- and victims photo's- posted to it. Her brow was drawn in worry.

"JJ," Rossi began, and she turned immediately to face him.

"Morgan and Spence were supposed to be here this morning. It's-" she paused, glancing at her watch, "-almost three and we haven't heard from them. Hotch thinks they slept in and are trying to make their way through since a lot of the road's are closed, but they aren't answering…"

"JJ," Rossi repeated, trying to sound gentle, "they'll get here when they get here. They're both responsible adults; if they're this late, it's got to be for a good reason."

She looked unconvinced, and he pulled out his own cell phone with a sigh. "I can call Garcia to look for them." He dialed, and the analyst answered on the first ring.

"_Dave Rossi,"_ she said cheerfully, _"to what do I owe this honor?"_

"Garcia," He replied in a no-nonsense voice that immediately sobered her joyful mood, "Can you track Morgan and Reid's cell phones?"

There was a few seconds of pause from the other end, and Rossi elaborated, "Nothing's wrong that we've determined, but they're late and they aren't answering so we wanted you to check and see where they are. Can you do that?"

"_Already doing it, sir." _

Less than a minute later, Garcia made a soft noise of surprise on her end of the line and Rossi's mouth twitched in a frown. "What is it?"

"_Ah, sir, both of their cell phones aren't showing up. They're either turned off or… broken? Or the sim card could be missing, or-"_

"Just let us know if they come back on, alright?" Rossi sighed, drumming his fingers on the wood of the desk.

"_Of course… sir?" _

"Yes?"

"_Bring my boys home safe, please…" _

Rossi paused for a moment. The sheer, half-concealed desperation in Garcia's voice made him wonder… what could've happened to them? "You know we'll do our best, Garcia," he said evenly. "We'll let you know as soon as we know something."

He hung up and eyed JJ warily. "Their phones are off and aren't showing up on Garcia's screens. We're going to have to look for them."

The blonde's posture was rigid and showed her worry, while her blue eyes widened. After a moment's hesitation, she said slowly, "I'll get Hotch and Emily."

* * *

"We don't have enough to go on," Morgan said slowly, reviewing the information in his head. Again. "We had the preliminary when we went to interview Damon Wagner. Emily called, said there was more and told us to come back. Now this. What if what we have is wrong, and they've changed it completely? If we go at this with the wrong profile, we'll think their behavior different… we could get ourselves killed."

At this point he wasn't sure if he was talking to himself or Reid. The younger profiler had been drifting in an out, offering pieces of the profile when he could, but mostly listening to Morgan mull over it. Now though, he was looking tiredly past Morgan's shoulder to see the hill and the road beyond. He could hear a car coming; there hadn't been any since he'd been awake.

Reid waited for the vehicle to appear, but it never did. After a while he gave up and let his thoughts drift instead to their situation while they were still clear enough to allow him to think. He could feel the damage he'd taken from the crash, and he knew it wasn't good; the entire right side of his body was throbbing. The impalement went without saying. Every minute they sat out there without help was another minute taken off his life. He glanced at Morgan. The man didn't have many outward signs of injury aside from his hastily wrapped leg, but Reid knew he wasn't as okay as he seemed. He began to doze again, exhaustion settling heavily over his thin, broken frame.

Morgan watched Reid for a moment, trying to push down the uneasy feeling that threatened to consume him. He closed his eyes briefly, letting himself think about what to do next when he felt a presence. He didn't have time to react before a hand pressed a cold rag to his face and he caught the horrid stench of chloroform.

"Reid," he wheezed, loudly, trying not to suck in the fumes that were invading his senses. The younger agent gave no sign he'd heard, but when Morgan tried again, his voice wouldn't work. No sound emerged. Eyes rolling back, Morgan collapsed lifelessly in the unsub's arms. The suspect pulled Morgan from the car, and another man joined him. Together, they hauled his body up the slope toward the waiting truck.

As soon as their backs were turned, Reid opened his eyes and turned slightly, resisting the urge to cry out as a ripping pain tore through his midriff. Reaching for the gun at his belt, he pulled it from the holster and wedged it into the side of his left shoe, pulling his pant leg down over it. Sagging back into the seat in exhaustion, he waited. He'd felt the fear, but gradually it'd faded to more of a resigned anxiety.

The men returned, as he'd known they would, and he watched them come around the car to his side. He nearly jumped when the door was opened, but instead he looked up at the unsub's; his hazel eyes meeting their brown ones.

"Why's this one not fighting back?" The younger looking of the two asked. The older one shook his head and Reid realized with a shock that he was Damon Wagner; the witness they'd interviewed before the "accident".

"This one's as good as gone anyway."

They didn't bother using the chloroform rag on Reid. He was half-conscious and half-dead anyway, and he didn't pose a threat. Reid's last conscious thought was a prayer that they didn't find his hidden weapon.

* * *

"Let's go over the case and the profile again."

Hotch spared Emily a glance before returning his eyes to the road. The four of them had piled into their other SUV and had taken off toward Damon Wagner's house- where Morgan and Reid had last been. JJ spoke up almost immediately.

"Four women and four men dead; they were married couples. The women were tied up, the men tortured to death, then the women raped and killed cleanly. As well as this, we have the two detectives that'd been looking into the case dead. Both had received warning letters the day before their deaths."

Rossi spoke up next, "so he gets off on power. Makes the women watch the men- their protectors- tortured and killed, then he goes after them. He's also paranoid. So afraid of getting caught, he just takes out the threat."

"Which is why I warned all of you to be careful," Hotch said, his voice strained, "this unsub will not hesitate to go after authority figures. It makes him feel safer, and it gives him the ultimate power trip."

They were silent for a moment, thinking of their missing friends.

Emily started again. "Reid said yesterday that we might have partners or a small group, even."

"It's possible, and even likely," Hotch said, never taking his eyes off the road. "The murders were messy and completely disorganized, however, there was no physical evidence left at the scene, suggesting that a more organized partner had come back to clean up."

"Not to mention how hard it would be to subdue and tie up a woman while holding off an angry, adult man," Rossi threw in.

"If he injected himself into the investigation, it wouldn't have been for power this time; he would be trying to keep tabs on the status so he was prepared." Emily's brow furrowed as she thought, and her face went slack in surprise when JJ spoke up again.

"Didn't Damon Wagner call yesterday and claim himself as a witness?"

Hotch's already severe expression grew even more intense as he pressed down harder on the gas pedal. "We need to hurry."

* * *

Reid was dimly aware of being carried but he couldn't see who was carrying him; for some reason, all he could see was the sky. He coughed, feeling warm fluid tickle his throat. The moving around was doing nothing positive to his failing body.

Despite the agony twisting through him, Reid took note of his surroundings like the trained agent he was. He hadn't been aware enough during the car ride, but now that he was here he made sure to notice everything he could.

They were behind a building. The truck was parked and the building in front of them looked like a warehouse. Strangely, the only thought he could process at that was _how cliché. _

A painful jolt through his torso made him flinch violently, and the man gripping him scowled, "hold still."

When he looked up again, they'd entered the warehouse. It was mostly barren inside, aside from two dusty looking couches, a few metal tables and some storage boxes. It was cold.

"Put him on the table and get the kit."

Reid was fairly certain that was Damon's voice, which clarified that Ricky must've been the one carrying him. He felt the cool metal under his body before his weight was deposited onto the table. He stared into Ricky's dark, blank brown eyes for a moment before the man walked away. Reid switched his attention to where he could see Morgan stretched out, unconscious, on one of the couches. He didn't notice Damon standing over him until he felt his breath on his face.

Reid's expression was blank as he stared, eyes half-lidded, at his abductor. Damon stared back, brown eyes on hazel. He didn't blink.

"Ricky, the kit?"

His partner returned with a first aid kit and Reid frowned. Damon opened it and rifled through. "He's going to die sooner or later," he said to Ricky, a frown touching his face, "the tree branch needs to come out; the injury is most likely already infected anyway."

"But he's going to bleed out," Ricky protested, eyeing Reid's mangled torso warily.

Damon gave Reid a once-over glance. "You're probably right, but we can't leave it there."

"So let me go," Reid hissed. He could feel sweat beading on his skin and he knew time was running out. His body was done trying to be strong.

"No can do, youngster. But we might as well get you set up here; no use having you die first thing." He rifled through the kit again, and Reid waited anxiously, feeling consciousness slipping away. He was bleeding again.

Across the room on the couch, Morgan was coming around, pulling himself from the deep confines of unconsciousness and back into the waking world. He struggled for a few moments before he could blink himself alert.

He did an immediate sweep of the room as soon as he was aware enough, and one of the first things he picked up on was a set of keys, a water bottle, and three cell phones on one of the metal tables in front of him. He did a double take, and he blinked.

Three cell phones. And one of them was definitely his.

He looked over to where Damon and Ricky were tying off the gauze bandages they'd wound around Reid's torso. They finished too quickly, and Morgan quickly pretended to still be out cold. It wasn't long until he heard them moving around.

"Go clean up that last one," he heard Damon's voice say authoritatively. Ricky hesitated before he replied.

"Help me pack up the truck?"

Morgan heard them leave. He knew they were just outside in the truck; there was no chance of escape, but he didn't need to. Not yet.

He reached over to the table and snagged his phone. With a few quick movements, he'd pressed the button to turn it on. It made a soft tune as it powered up and he froze for a moment, hoping they hadn't heard. When they didn't come running back inside immediately, he relaxed, replacing the cell phone on the table. _Can it really be that easy?_

The team had to know they were missing by now, and if they did, Morgan was completely confident that Garcia would be tracing his phone. Now all they had to do was wait.

Which, Morgan decided, was easier said than done. The chloroform hadn't helped him at all, and his vision was beginning to double again. He ached to check on Reid, but he didn't know if he could walk over there. And it wasn't safe to yet, anyway. He could hear someone walking back to the warehouse; that familiar sound of boots on gravel. He pretended to be unconscious again.

_Patience, _he reminded himself. They would come now, he knew. All he had to do was wait.

* * *

Hotch parked the vehicle in Damon Wagner's driveway, and the team slipped out quickly, guns drawn and vests in place.

They slipped up to the house, where Hotch barely hesitated before taking down the door. He winced afterward, and Rossi grinned.

"Not as easy as Morgan makes it look, is it?" He asked, sounding amused. Hotch merely grunted.

"Not as young as I was when I started this job, either."

They made their way through the house, but there was no evidence that anyone was there. The place was completely empty.

They regrouped out front, and Hotch growled, "dammit."

Before they could even start to discuss what was to come next, Hotch's cell rang. He flipped it open and put it on speaker.

"Hotchner."

"_Sir?" _Garcia's voice sounded so relieved, JJ and Emily stood straighter immediately, listening. Rossi looked at Hotch determinedly. _"I just got a trace on Morgan's phone… it's active, and I have a location. I'm sending the address to you now. Bring them home." _

_

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_**This Chapter: Can it really be that easy? Yes, yes it can. For now, anyway. Longest chapter yet, so far at exactly 3,000 words. Go me. **

**Next Chapter: I figure if I want this to be logical at all, Morgan has to start acting like he's got a concussion and broken bones and Reid's gotta start acting like he was smashed against the side of a car and impaled by an object. It'll get very much more in-character and angsty. I left out a lot of the 'oh god I'm dying' on Reid/Morgan's parts here because I needed to focus on the rest but next chapter I'll get to it. **

**However! **

**The story will not wrap up because they're in the hospital and whatnot. Those unsubs are still out there, still killing, and they still have a serious grudge against our agents. This needs to be resolved. :P **

**As always, any feedback is appreciated. There's an incredible number of people who have this story on their alerts, if every person left a review even with something like 'meh', that'd be so awesome. **

**Thanks for reading. **

**- Shark **


	5. Chapter 5

**PRE NOTE: Just know that it's past midnight and I'm up on a school night finishing and posting this.  
Oh yeah, appreciate me. :D**

**WARNING: LANGUAGE. F-BOMBS DROPPED HERE. XD**

**Inspirational music for this chapter: Forbidden Friendship (How to Train your Dragon Score… yeah it wasn't really fitting but I liked the tune too much to stop listening to it.) **

**Anyway.**

**Thank you guys so much for all the reviews last chapter! This story has almost as many reviews as it has alerts, but not quite, haha! I try to reply to every reviewer (if you're logged in) but I lost track after a while, so if I didn't reply, know that I appreciate your words! :D If you have any questions, please ask. **

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_**Jeux D'esprit – Chapter 5**_

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Morgan felt the shock wearing off and the throbbing throughout his body intensifying. When Ricky left, Damon Wagner stayed outside, moving boxes. With the slight calm, Morgan's adrenaline was fading, leaving only an icy, pulsing pain. He could feel his fractured scapula, the shock through the muscle leaving his right arm mostly numb. The twig lodged in his thigh felt looser, and he felt the warm trickle of blood down his pant leg. The only upside he noticed was that his head was clear.

He didn't know how long it'd been since he'd turned his phone on, but it felt like hours. He glanced over to Reid; the younger profiler was still sprawled out on the table, unmoving. When Morgan didn't see blood cascading off the side of the table, he felt the tiniest bit of reassurance. _At least we haven't reached catastrophic levels yet. _

No sooner had the thought crossed his mind, he heard Damon outside of the warehouse snapping angrily at someone. Morgan shifted a little and looked over in time to see their captive throw the doors open and stomp in, snapping a cell phone shut.

"You fucker," He hissed, moving alarmingly toward the downed agent. Morgan shifted defensively, one hand groping for his holster. He felt a shock of surprise when his gun wasn't there. He glanced again at Reid.

"They're coming," Damon snapped, leaning down and staring Morgan dead-on with severe, pale brown eyes. "I can't let them get to you, can I? No, too much at stake." He seemed to almost be mumbling to himself. He paced for a few moments before he returned, fumbling one hand for the sloppy, makeshift bandage on Morgan's thigh.

The agent strained but his captor was quicker. Morgan cried out as Damon Wagner's fingers dug into the wound, groping until his nails closed on the thin twig embedded there. He ripped it free violently, tossing it aside as Morgan hissed under his breath. The injury was bleeding again, and the agent pressed one hand to in a half-hearted attempt to stop it.

"How do you know?" He hissed, attempting to appear strong even though his vision was blurring.

Damon sent him a glare that could've melted ice. "Ricky called, he was driving down a few miles down and saw the SUV. It had the police lights; it's them all right. And they're going to have a hell of a shock when they get here." In a blindingly quick movement, lunged forward, gripping at Morgan's wrists. The agent fought back and the two grappled before toppling off the dusty couch and onto the concrete floor. They wrestled back and forth, Morgan grunting in exertion and Damon snarling in fury.

"Fucking- lie – _still!" _Damon hissed, slamming Morgan's already injured head against the concrete. He went still, and the murderer stood slowly, watching for movement. When he found none, he moved toward the table Reid was sprawled on.

"You too, youngster," He said darkly, beginning to remove the bloodstained gauze he'd applied less than an hour earlier. He missed Reid's clear, hazel eyes tracking his movements.

Free of the bandages, Damon repeated the process; digging his fingers into the deep injury. Reid cried out as Morgan had, and he strained only briefly before going limp. He coughed, scarlet fluid seeping from the corner of his mouth. He watched Damon viciously tear the branch free, and as soon as he did, the bleeding started again, and this time it was uncontrollable.

"There we are," Damon Wagner said, sounding satisfied. "That'll do. Hopefully for your sake you'll go quickly. Can't have you telling your friends anything you saw." He turned and headed for the door, eager to leave before the rest of the BAU team arrived. He almost made it there when the sudden, deafening sound of a gunshot was heard and he felt a fiery pain rip through his right thigh. He stumbled badly, but caught himself on the frame of the door.

He turned an angry glare over his shoulder to see Reid half-lying, half-sitting up, holding a gun in his left hand. Damon Wagner hissed angrily, "How did you…?"

But he heard the sirens. They were distant, for now, but they were getting closer. Forgetting the agents, he turned and disappeared through the open door, limping and clutching one hand to the hemorrhaging injury.

Reid's clouding eyes caught sight of Morgan, limp and facedown on the concrete floor, and he opened his mouth to call out to him but his voice wasn't working; he only felt the warm tickle of blood in the back of his throat. His eyes traced down to his torn abdomen, able to see the bleeding up close. It wouldn't stop, and the sight of the injury made him sick. The sirens grew louder, and Reid placed his full, innocent confidence in his teammates. He trusted that they'd get there in time.

* * *

The drive seemed to take forever, and Hotch wasted no time throwing the SUV into park as soon as they turned around to the back of the warehouse that had been thought to be abandoned. The team donned their vests and had their weapons drawn as they snuck up to the open doors. They waited for Hotch's signal, then slipped inside.

"FBI," Hotch called warningly, sweeping the place. He didn't see their unsubs, but he saw something else entirely that made his heart twist. Morgan was sprawled on the floor facedown a few feet away, beside an old looking couch. An end table was at one end of the couch and the cell phone that had led the team there resided on it.

Hotch nodded to the team, and Rossi made his way over to Morgan, followed by Emily. He turned to find JJ already jogging toward his other missing agent. He followed her quickly, slipping his gun back into its holster.

"God, Spence, oh _god." _JJ was frantic, and Hotch placed a soothing hand on her shoulder for a moment before turning his attention to his youngest. He looked like he was only sleeping, aside from the blood that spattered his face and leaked from slightly parted lips. Hotch's eyes traced downward and he jerked with a start when he saw the gaping injury. JJ stripped off her vest and pressed it to her friend's torso.

Hotch turned, and found Emily already on the phone, stalking outside. Dave was lifting Morgan's limp form onto the couch. It took Emily less than a minute to return, and she tossed her phone onto the table that held Morgan's.

"Ambulance is on the way," she said, her voice stricken. "What's the damage?"

"I can't wake Morgan," Rossi said. He, as usual, sounded calm but there was no mistaking the urgency in his voice. He touched the downed agent's shoulder, but he didn't move. The right side of his head was sticky with blood. Rossi shook his head, "head wounds tend to bleed a lot- there's no telling how bad this really is until the paramedics gets here." Rossi pressed his free hand to the slowly oozing wound in Derek's thigh.

Emily looked over at Hotch, who's visage was beyond tense. He gently gestured to the pair behind him. "Reid's stirring… his gun's in his left hand, though."

"He's right handed," Emily said, brow furrowed as she stepped forward to get to the young profilers side, "why would it be in his opposite hand?"

"It's been fired recently," Hotch said quietly, watching JJ trying desperately to staunch the blood flow from Reid's torso, "maybe he fired at the unsub. Emily, help JJ." The dark-haired woman hurried to JJ's side and added her hands to help press on their friend's abdomen.

"Stay with me, Spence," JJ said gently, pulling away one hand to brush her fingers through his longish, sweat-damp hair. He watched her with half-lidded hazel eyes, but he didn't seem able to speak. His fingers twitched, and JJ pushed the gun away from his hand, sliding her palm into his. They were both slick with blood, but she tried to ignore it in favor of offering what comfort she could.

Hotch strode up to Rossi, kneeling beside the couch. He looked at Morgan's still face, and his eyes were worried. "Do you think-?"

"They'll be fine," Rossi said, "especially now." He nodded over Hotch's shoulder, and the unit chief stood and turned to see paramedics stalking purposefully into the room. He'd been so preoccupied, he hadn't heard the sirens.

"Sirs, we need you to move," one said kindly, urging Rossi and Hotch to step aside. They did, slowly, and Hotch watched the man with some amount of distrust, but Rossi's hand on his upper arm brought his attention away.

"Let them do their job," Dave said, trying to sound gentle, "they'll do their best to save them."

_Save them. _Hotch knew the words were meant to be comforting, but they only served to remind him of the severity of the situation. He felt a sharp, stab of guilt; as much as he knew nobody else would blame him, he could clearly remember giving the order to send the pair out there. He remembered having Morgan get up after he'd gone to sleep for the night and telling him to go out to an interview. He remembered Morgan going back to wake an exhausted Reid. He remembered how tired and bedraggled they'd both looked when they'd left at nearly midnight in the snow. And now they were in this situation, and Hotch felt _regret. _

Hotch finally allowed Rossi to tug him away from Morgan's limp form. His arms rested at his sides, fists clench and expression, for once, uncertain. The paramedics descended on Morgan immediately. The older agents turned back toward where the women were with Reid.

One medic had a hand pressed to the gash in the young agent's torso, the other hand waving at Emily to get back. She obeyed, reluctantly, and turned her dark, helpless eyes toward her superiors.

They were having less luck moving JJ. She had one hand in Reid's pant pocket, the other touching his face.

"JJ," Hotch said, "you have to let them have space… they need to help him."

The blonde shook her head, stepping away from her friend and moving toward the others. The medics began working immediately. "Hotch," she said, sounding anxious, "I can't find his badge."

The unit chief's dark brows drew together but JJ spoke again before he could say anything.

"I wanted something to hold on to," she said, looking back to where the paramedics were. "But his badge wasn't in his pocket."

After a beat, one of the medics called from Morgan's side, "nothing in his pocket either." He looked up to the others, working with the other agent a few feet away. "They're both in crit-con, we need to get moving."

Hotch's expression became stony again. "Their credentials were stolen? Why?"

They didn't have time to think about it. The paramedics were loading the two agents into the ambulances. They moved quickly and the team didn't have time to see what had been done to their partners.

"I'll ride with Reid," JJ said quietly, following the medics into the back of one of the ambulances. Hotch nodded toward the other.

"I'll go with Morgan; one of you… call Garcia. Have her meet us there."

* * *

Emily dialed Garcia the second she'd buckled her seatbelt in the passenger seat of the SUV. The tech answered on the second ring, and her voice sounded groggy as if she'd fallen asleep at work.

"Garcia?" Emily tried gently, glancing at Rossi. The older agent looked tense behind the wheel of the nearly speeding SUV.

"Emily, oh, do you have anything for me?" If Penelope had been sleeping before, all traces of tiredness gone. "Please tell me you have good news."

Prentiss hesitated. "We have… news. I'm not sure yet how good it is." When Garcia didn't say anything, Emily continued. "We found them; they're hurt, but we found them."

"_How are they?"_ The question was simple and straightforward but it seemed to be the worst thing to ask.

Emily bit her lip. "We aren't sure yet. The medics said they were in critical condition when they left. Hotch and JJ rode with them, Rossi and I are on our way to the hospital now. Can you meet us?"

There was a soft, strangled sob on Garcia's end and a long pause before she spoke again. _"I'll be there as soon as I can. Please, please, keep them safe. I need to see them." _

"I will," Emily answered without pause. She knew it was a promise she couldn't keep, and yet Garcia's innocent request wasn't one she could say no to. She would do all she could to keep her word. She snapped the phone closed and slid it into her pocket, glancing at the worn-down looking Rossi beside her.

"She's on her way."

* * *

No sooner had the ambulances parked in the bay had JJ and Hotch been ushered out. They stood side by side on the sidewalk, watching as Morgan and Reid were rushed inside. Then they were left to play the waiting game.

JJ looked uneasy, staring at her blood-slick palms. Her blouse was ruined, she realized distantly; she'd never get all that blood out. But that didn't matter. She felt Hotchner's fingers grip her shoulder and she looked at him, blue eyes distraught. He looked so tired.

"Let's go inside," he said softly, "they need their paperwork filled out."

A few minutes later had the two agents seated in the waiting room with clipboards on their laps. Hotch wrote mindlessly, without thinking, but JJ kept staring at the _27 _she'd written for Reid's age. Twenty-seven, not even thirty. Barely a third of the way through his life; he didn't deserve this. Hotch felt similar, writing Morgan's information from memory. Whatever he didn't remember, he left blank. He wasn't going to ask Garcia. She didn't deserve that. He went to turn the paperwork in and when he returned, he found Rossi and Emily waiting with JJ. They watched him uneasily as he returned and sat down. They stared at him without a word, but he knew what they were going to say. He breathed a quiet sigh and ran a hand through his short hair.

"I haven't heard anything yet. We've barely been here for fifteen minutes."

The group looked uneasy, but Hotch knew that it was what it was. Hospitals gave information when the doctors wanted to; he didn't think demanding information would get him far. Even with a federal ID.

-x-

Two and a half hours later, the remains of the BAU team found themselves still waiting, but JJ and Emily sat up when a familiar blonde woman strode in and made her way to the front desk. She opened her mouth to speak, and judging by the redness in her face, she was probably about to yell, but Emily spoke quickly before she could.

"Garcia, over here."

She turned immediately and walked toward them, one hand clutching her bag and the other pushing her glasses up on her nose. Her eyes were red and puffy. Emily gestured, and the technical analyst sat beside her slowly.

"We don't know anything yet," JJ said quietly, before Garcia could ask. "We've been waiting almost three hours."

"And we'll probably wait a while longer," Garcia murmured, folding her hands in her lap.

"Sit tight," Hotch said quietly, "patience."

The team exchanged nervous glances. It was easier said than done.

Garcia had counted that a few minutes more than an hour had passed when a male doctor came to stand in front of them. He looked calm and professional, and there were no outward signs of sorrow on his face. Garcia didn't know if doctors were supposed to remain distant, but she figured if the worst had happened, there would be some sign. She wasn't a profiler, but this man didn't seem like he'd just let a patient, an agent, die.

"Derek?" He asked authoritatively. As soon as the name left his lips, the entire team was alert, watching him with anxious eyes.

"Yes," Hotch replied, "how is he?"

"I'll get right to the point then," The doctor said, nodding. "I'm Dr. Linnel, I was in charge of both of your agents when they came in, but I handed off… Spencer? -I'm sorry, I only caught their first names from the paramedics when they came in- to Dr. Ruiz. As for Derek, there were several injuries that needed repairing and understandably, it took a while."

The team exchanged glances, except for Garcia. Her dark, teary eyes never left the doctor's face.

"His right shoulder blade was broken, badly. We pieced it back together; it took a while, but it should heal all right. If he'd been brought in much later, it might have healed the wrong way… he's lucky he was brought in when he was. His thigh had been impaled with something thin; it had been removed and was bleeding heavily when he arrived. We've stopped the bleeding and done the stitching. The only concern now for that is a high risk of infection from being exposed for so long." He took a deep breath, meeting the agent's worried eyes.

"The most worrying of his injuries is a severe concussion. It's my guess he was hit over the head a few times. Once, at least, from the accident, you say he was in? Then at least once again, hours later. We're monitoring him now, but as of this moment, there doesn't _seem _to be any lasting damages. Questions?"

"When will he be able to go home?" Garcia's voice sounded surprisingly strong as she spoke. Dr. Linnel looked at her.

"I'd say in a few days if he doesn't try to exert himself. I can let you see him if promise to let him rest. But just one at a time."

Hotch nodded at Garcia when she looked at him, and the blonde stood, hands wringing. Dr. Linnel turned and she followed him. He didn't speak as he led her to Morgan's room.

"Just let him rest," the doctor said quietly. Garcia brushed past him with a slight nod, sinking into the chair at the side of the bed. She noticed the bandage wrapped around his head, the IV lines that snaked under the thin blanket draped over him from the chest down. But his face, bruised as it was, was peaceful. She slid her hand in his, and he stirred.

It took him a moment to focus, but his dark eyes met hers and he winced. "'Cia?" he murmured, taking a few slow deep breaths. "Baby girl… s'good to see you…"

"How are you feeling?" She asked, leaning forward, eyes tracing his face for signs of discomfort.

"Sore," he muttered, shifting. He readjusted, and he seemed to remember something because he looked at her suddenly. "Reid…?"

She remembered her young friend and felt a pang in her chest. She averted her eyes from Morgan's searching gaze, and found a spot on the opposite wall to stare at. She felt salty fluid welling in her eyes for the hundredth time that day. "We don't know yet," she murmured, "they took him up to surgery the moment you and he got here, about three hours ago and we haven't heard anything. You were first."

Morgan's gaze became distant. "I'm lying here… on the mend, and Reid could be… in _any _condition, and we don't know…"

"He'll be fine, thundercat," Garcia said softly, watching his face. "He always is. He's stronger than he looks." She wasn't sure if she was trying to convince him, or herself.

He closed his eyes again, allowing his aching body to succumb to the darkness. "My boy's tougher than… than he looks." He sighed, exhaling slowly, and he was gone again. Garcia squeezed his hand, taking a deep breath. She stayed with him a few minutes longer, until she heard someone enter the room. She turned to see Dr. Linnel watching her intensely.

"Dr. Ruiz is in the waiting room with your team. She's ready to brief you on Spencer's condition."

Garcia stood, and nodded in Morgan's direction. "Please, take care of him." She didn't wait for a response before she headed toward the waiting room she'd spent so many hours in, eager to hear news of their- _her -_ youngster.

She stepped into the room to find the team standing, facing a middle aged woman with a kind face and weary eyes, as though she'd seen too much during her years. Garcia could sympathize.

"How's my sweet boy?" She asked the doctor quietly, feeling anxious.

Dr. Ruiz breathed a sigh and smoothed her rumpled, bloodied medical scrubs, watching the team sincerely. Time seemed to freeze when she spoke.

"I'm sorry."

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**Notes: Yes, I did just cut if off there. It was getting to be over 3,600 words. I can't give you guys so much at once! Haha. (: **

**I love Garcia. I love her so much. I love her paired with Morgan, and I love her as a sister/mother-like figure to Reid. **

**My friend paid me a dollar to have Garcia call Morgan thundercat. :D**

**This chapter: Really long, in my opinion. Jeez you guys should've seen the days when I updated short crappy chapters like, once every four or five months. This is the first story I've ever made this much progress on. And so quickly! I've outdone meself again. Meself was not a typo btw. **

**They're rescued! Morgan (should be) on the mend, and Reid? Well, we're not sure yet now are we? Rescue complete, but their credentials have been taken. Why? **

**Next chapter: Catching up with the 'unsubs' (who are now not 'unknown' but I shall continue to use the term anyway!) Find out what's up with Reidikins and Morgan can see the rest of the team. The plot (because there is one, kinda) thickens. **

**As always, please point out any typos you see and I'll be glad to fix them! It was mentioned that I jump POV's a lot… but I cannot seem to fix this problem, haha.**

**I got so many nice reviews last chapter and I want to thank you guys so much. They mean so so so much to me, even if you say 'thnx update soon k' it lets me know that my hours of typing on end are appreciated. (: This story has more alerts than reviews, haha! **

**Thanks so much in advance, guys. **

**Until next time!**

**- Shark**


	6. Chapter 6

**Sorry for all the medical junk! I didn't want to say something wrong and sound dumb so a shit-ton of googling went into this chapter. :D skip if it's boring.**

**PERTAINING TO THE STORY: Alright, I know long author notes are annoying so skip this is you want.  
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**When I started writing in 2004, my work wasn't really noticed. This response- over 60 reviews for five chapters- is incredible to me. It's giving me an amazing inspiration to continue this. (Want to know a secret? I've never finished a full-length fic.) And I've never had reviews like this. Since I never finished stories, I never broke 100 reviews. With the way this is going, I think I can get to that number and maybe over. I want to thank all of your for your kindness and support of my crazy story. **

**I'm dedicating this chapter to **_**lolyncut. **_**Although this story path was my intention anyway, your review made me want to keep it this was especially. I hope you enjoy this. **

**Also Lolyncut, I could never make Reid sterile… if I did, he couldn't have my babies either lol. D: (I cyber-stalk him. I'm not alone on that, am I?) **

**Warning: Try to get through the first few paragraphs without panicking, plz k thnx.**

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_**Jeux D'esprit – Chapter 6**_

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Time froze in the hospital's little waiting room, and Dr. Ruiz felt a true pang of sorrow. She'd had patients die before, but she'd been so surprised when he had been brought to her. The only thing she'd managed to catch about him was that his name was Spencer, and that he was a twenty-seven year old FBI agent. She'd done all she could.

"I'm so sorry," she repeated, trying to sooth the people that sat in front of her, some staring in morbid horror and others looking merely numb. The blonde woman that had come from the other agent's room already had tears tracing paths down her cheeks, one fist pressed against her mouth.

"There's nothing you could have done?" Hotch asked suddenly, looking at her with dark, blank eyes. He felt detached, and he knew his voice sounded cold. It wasn't fair to be upset with the doctor, he _knew _this, but all he needed was someone to blame. Reid never deserved this.

"I did all I could," the doctor replied quietly, her voice gentle. "He'd lost so much blood by the time I'd reached him. It seems he was impaled by something that was then removed--" She cut herself off when Garcia gave a muffled sob into her hands. Dr. Ruiz made a move to say something else when one of her nurses jogged into the waiting room, looking out of breath.

"Dr. Ruiz," she breathed, "something's changed. We think it's a late reaction to the charge of the defibrillator, but there's a pulse."

Dr. Ruiz held up a finger at Hotch to have him wait a minute, but the entire team was listening as the nurse spoke frantically.

"What do you mean? How is that possible?"

"We went to move him," the nurse said, "when he nearly kicked me in the face. We were surprised so we checked, and sure enough, he had a pulse."

"He's alive?" JJ asked, her voice trembling. She watched the women intently.

"Yes," the nurse said, then nodded at Dr. Ruiz. "We re-intubated and put him back on drips and transfusions; go on. I can explain to them."

Nodding encouragingly, Dr. Ruiz offered the team a faint smile before she headed back. The nurse turned to them, her expression light.

"This is a very good sign," she started. The team immediately came to the conclusion that she was more uplifting that Dr. Ruiz had been. "He stayed strong after we gave up on him; after his heart stopped. He came back. It was a late reaction but we're glad it happened, so I'll explain to you what's been going on."

"First," Rossi said slowly, "do you think he's going to recover?"

"I'd say his chances of survival upped to over seventy-percent. There are complications, naturally but we're working on it."

"Complications such as?" Emily sounded calmer than she thought she would, but her dark eyes were piercing.

"Impalement is a difficult thing to treat. It goes straight through the tissue and anything in between. The object punctured mid-abdomen and pierced his stomach clean through. Luckily, the exit wound was at an angle and it just _barely _brushed his spine. A few millimeters to the left and he could've ended up paralyzed. We performed a laparotomy and we had to fix him up inside as best we could. It was close, but we had him stitched up as best we could and we had to close him up."

A noticeable wince passed through the team at the cruel choice of words, but the nurse continued smoothly. "We'd fixed the damage enough that he could survive, but there were other contributing factors that led to the temporary cease of breathing. The blood loss was astounding, we put him on transfusions immediately and it's still going now. We had him intubated- not because he couldn't breathe, but because it was so labored. He body has been through a lot, and we wanted to ease up on him in any way we could. He's resting now, and you should be able to go in and see him in a little bit."

JJ sat up straight and seemed to sag in relief, leaning exhaustedly against Emily. The dark-haired woman slipped her hand into JJ's, offering a tight smile. Rossi watched them but soon turned his attention to Hotch, touching his shoulder. Hotch didn't react for a few moments.

"Were there other injuries?"

Garcia looked up immediately, dark eyes seeking out the woman. The nurse didn't flinch under the intense gaze of several federal agents. "Yes," she started, "but they aren't life threatening. Broken bones mostly; three fingers and his wrist, six ribs and a deep fracture of his hip. All on the right side. They're well on their way to healing so we focused more on the puncture. Unfortunately, he acquired quite a bit of damage since the car hit on his side, but for an emaciated-looking kid, I'd say he's doing pretty well."

Hotch spoke again while the team processed the information. "Can we see him?"

"Not all at once," she replied softly, frowning.

"I'm going to see how Morgan's doing, you said he was awake?" Rossi stood, and Garcia nodded. Emily stood up also, moving to follow.

"I'll go with you, then. We can switch in a little bit but I gotta see how bigshot's handling this. Ten bucks says he's going to say 'it's just a scratch' at some point."

"I'll take you on that," Rossi said dryly, leading Prentiss toward their colleague's room. The nurse gestured for the others to follow her, which they did eagerly.

"You can talk to him, touch him, whatever you need to but be quiet and gentle. He should be coming off of the anesthesia any moment now. If he starts to sweat or get feverish, call for someone. There's a high risk of infection and I noticed the beginnings of it earlier. We disinfected the injury as best we can, but wounds like that can be difficult to take care of. Especially before anything's even happened."

She stopped and pushed the door open for them. "There should be enough seats for you, there's a few against the wall and one by the bed. Not too long, now." She turned to leave, closing the door behind her after the agents had shuffled in.

Hotch stood back to allow the girls to greet the young agent first. JJ sank into the chair at the side of the bed and Garcia padded around to his other side. They watched for movement, but there was none. His face was relaxed, despite the equipment latched to his lithe body. Garcia glared at the thin, clear tube that emerged from the corner of his mouth mistrustfully, while JJ slipped her hand into Reid's left one.

He flinched violently when JJ's skin touched his, and the blonde leaned back in surprise. "Spence?" she asked quietly, fingers squeezing his. He cringed a little, but the movement was appreciated.

Garcia ruffled his longish hair gently, smiling faintly. "Come on, muffin, show mama those pretty eyes."

He tried; he really did. It took him a few minutes to rouse himself from his medically induced slumber, but when he did, his tired, blurry eyes met two other sets. One blue, one dark brown. He wished he could smile.

"There you are," Garcia cooed, brushing back his hair. JJ only smiled at him, wordless. She didn't need to say anything, but Reid watched her with appreciation. He remembered, distantly, that she'd been with him in the ambulance. He remembered her words of comfort, her fingers in his like they were now.

They stayed for a few minutes, and Garcia looked up when she noticed Reid was dozing again. She met Hotch's eyes, and she kissed Reid's forehead, standing slowly.

"We'll come back later, pumpkin. Get some sleep, okay?"

He made a soft noise of consent and JJ stood up too, squeezing his hand.

"I'm going to see Morgan again," Garcia said quietly to Hotch on her way out. He merely nodded; JJ followed a few seconds after, her expression downcast.

Alone now, Hotch sank into the chair, running a hand over his tired face. He felt so emotionally drained, he couldn't tell if seeing Reid like this was good because he was alive, or bad because he was in this condition to begin with. He wasn't so sure how to react.

"You know Reid," he started coolly, "there are days when I wish you hadn't made it into the bureau. I wish Jason hadn't detected your potential. I wish sometimes that I just had you stay back at Quantico with Garcia, safe in her den." He paused, watching his agent's face. Reid watched Hotch with tired, half-lidded eyes.

"But _every day, _I wish I could start making the right decisions."

He wanted to offer the injured agent some measure of physical comfort, but he didn't know how. Reid calmed the trembling that had begun creeping into his frame, and blinked hard, trying to stay awake. His lips moved, but he only emitted a raspy wheeze. Giving up, he settled back into the pillows, willing his hurting body to slip back into blissful unconsciousness.

Hotch waited, and when Reid began to doze again, he stood. The unit chief carefully rested one palm on the young profilers head; he felt the shaggy hair tickling his fingers and his lips twitched, faintly. He didn't ruffle Reid's hair the way the JJ or Garcia would, and he didn't give him a firm, reassuring squeeze the way Morgan would. He just offered this simple, gentle contact.

"Get some rest," he murmured to Reid quietly, "we'll visit you again in a few hours. We'll take you through the cognitive interview if you're feeling up to it later." Reid made a soft sound and Hotch broke contact, watching Reid's face for a moment longer before he headed for the door.

Hotchner met the rest of the team in the hospital waiting room. They all watched him as he entered, but he only shook his head.

"No news. He passed out right before I left." He gave his team a once over, his dark brows drawn in thought. "Go back to the hotel and get some rest. You can come back later or in the morning; until we get through the cognitive with them, we don't have much to go on for our case. And our unsubs seem to keep getting smarter."

"You're going to stay?" Rossi asked, brow furrowed. "Should I stay too? Two agents standing watch is better than one."

Hotch shook his head. "Prentiss, would you be willing to stay?" at her nod, he continued. "Dave, I want you to go because I don't want Garcia and JJ alone. These unsubs have already proven they're willing to go after authority figures. Stick together and be careful. I'll call you in a few hours."

They exchanged glances before they left, reluctantly. As much as they hated to admit it, they needed sleep if they were going to function decently. Their fallen teammates needed them, and they each had a new motivation to finish this case.

* * *

"Damon?" Ricky tried again, his voice small as he sunk as low as he could in the passenger seat of the truck as his partner drove. He'd been angry, and the two hadn't spoken in what seemed like hours.

Damon grunted an acknowledgement, but didn't speak. His eyes didn't move from the road.

"Why did we take the FBI guys' ID's?" It was a question he'd been dying to ask as he stared at Dr. Reid's kind, half-smiling expression in his ID. It had his information on it. Morgan's badge was resting in the center console, and Ricky resisted the urge to pick it up and look at it.

Damon didn't reply right away and he seemed irritated by the question. "This one here, I'm keeping. S'like a trophy, you know. Took down a big tough fed."

"And this one?" Ricky prodded carefully, tracing his fingers over the laminated badge in his hands.

"We can use that one," Damon said flatly, "if you flash it quickly enough and don't let people stare, you could pass as him. You got longish brown hair; you're kinda thicker and you've got brown eyes, but like I said- flash it real quick."

"And what are we going to do with it?" Ricky replied, almost dreading the answer.

Damon paused, looking remotely thoughtful. "First we're going to get the information we need. Then we're going to throw the feds off our trail. Then we have to make sure those agents are dead and if they aren't, we gotta finish the job."

Ricky felt a cold swell of dread rise through him. "Are you sure we have to? Taking out FBI agents is risky—"

"Yes," Damon cut off. "They were profilers… they were like, looking for stuff to predict us, right? They saw too much in that warehouse. I hit the one over the head and I hope it made him forget whatever he saw but that other one I'm worried about." He gave a sidelong glance at the open badge in Ricky's hand. "Youngster better not be as good as google says he is."

Damon became quiet again after that, and Ricky stared out his window. He watched the trees blur by and solemnly wondered if he wanted to do this any more.

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**Ah, this chapter's kinda short. No good! But it's almost two am, cut me a break. I'll have part seven up before you know it.**

**& I wanted Hotch to worry about his agent at least a little (amplification ending disappoint anyone?) but I tried so hard to keep him at least somewhat in-character. How did I do? **

**As for Garcia, I have a picture of Matt Gubler with a big purple lipstick mark on his face; indeed, from Miss Garcia herself. So I didn't think it too far-fetched for her to kiss his forehead, but what do you think? OOC? Let me know, I hate ooc and I'll change it haha.  
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**This chapter: medical drama, gasp. I'm not a doctor- everything said here came from various google sources so it might be wrong but I tried. Fear not, more twists and turns to come. **

**Next chapter: Our 'unsubs' put our agents' credentials to good use. But for what purpose? Morgan and Reid are far from done with the job, despite the fact that they are temporarily immobilized. **

**I absolutely love you guys. Please read, enjoy, and review. (: **

**Until next time,**

**- Sharky **


	7. Chapter 7

**Alright guys, think we can make it to 100 reviews? (: **

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_**Jeux D'esprit – Chapter 7**_

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Hotch didn't know when exactly he'd fallen asleep or for how long, but when he woke with a stiff back and sore neck on the plastic hospital chair, Morgan's dark eyes were watching him.

"How'd you sleep?" He asked his boss, voice slurred from sleep.

"As well as I expected, these chairs aren't very comfortable," Hotch replied dryly, folding his hands in his lap and leaning forward, eyeing his agent carefully. "How're you doing?"

Morgan paused before responding. "Doc says my memory might have gaps for the past few days but I should get everything back soon enough. Leg hurts like a bitch, though."

"Is the wound infected?"

Morgan shrugged his good shoulder with a wince. "The doctor's said it's got a mild infection, but I wouldn't be surprised if it's getting worse. It's freakin' _burning_." He turned to look at Hotch again. "They won't let me go see Reid."

Hotch's brows drew together. "Obviously, Morgan. You're in no shape to visit."

"Don't suppose I could get you to push me over there in a wheelchair?" His face was resigned.

Hotch felt a tiny smile pull at the corner of his mouth. "I don't think the doctor would let me do that. I can go check on him and report back if you'd like."

"First, do you guys have anything on the sicko's that took us?" There was barely concealed anger in his voice, and he scowled fiercely.

"We have his name and image. JJ's supposed to hold a press conference and get his picture circulated. We have forensic teams at the warehouse we rescued you from, but we're going to need to go through the cognitive interview when you're feeling up to it."

Morgan sighed wistfully. "What time is it?"

Hotch checked his watch. "Eight-forty-nine. In the morning."

Derek considered for a moment before stating, "get me an update and I'll go through the interview."

Hotch squeezed Morgan's good shoulder, getting up and striding out of the room. He made his way down the hall until Prentiss saw him and gestured toward the door next to her.

"He's in there still," she said, "I just stepped out for a minute to call JJ. She's doing the conference at nine and she has Wagner's picture. Garcia's digging up all she can on him and Rossi's helping her sort through it, but the two of them said they'd be here in little bit."

"Is it wise to have JJ working alone?" Hotch asked, pushing the door to Reid's room open and stepping inside. Emily followed closely.

"She's going to have police officers with her at all times for safety. She promised to stay safe and get over here as soon as she finished."

Hotch eased into the plastic seat by the bed while Emily pulled another up beside him, sitting down slowly. Hotch nodded to Reid's sleeping form, "how's he been?"

"Last night it was touch and go for a while," Emily murmured, "the doctor's weren't sure because his vitals kept slipping. He was stabilized around two am, but he started getting feverish an hour later. I called the nurse, and she gave him some antibiotics. He's been sleeping most of the time since then."

"Most of the time?" Hotch asked, watching his youngest sleep restlessly.

"He woke two or three times, and he saw me but he obviously couldn't say anything." She paused, then, "how's Morgan?"

"He slept most of the night, and I did too. Looks like you had more going on than I did." She smiled dryly and Hotch sighed. "He's still on morphine and will be for a while, because of his shoulder mostly. Mild infection of the leg, and the x-rays came back. The doctor says he has a hairline fracture near the front of his skull."

Emily sighed, and moved to stand. "I'll go see him, then." She headed toward the door and glanced back, motioning to the monitor's beside the bed. "Watch those," she said, "they've been changing a little but we're supposed to call the nurse if anything changes drastically."

Hotch was left alone with Reid again, and he leaned back in the chair. The younger profiler stirred, as though sensing his boss's presence. Reid blinked himself awake and looked at Hotch. His lips moved, but he couldn't speak. Cringing in discomfort, he reached his left hand up to the thin tube emerging from his throat.

"No, don't do that," Hotch scolded gently, pushing Reid's hand down. "I can call a nurse and see if she can take it out, but don't pull on it." Reid watched as he leaned over and hit the call button for the nurse.

She arrived in under a minute. "Is something wrong?" she asked immediately, moving over to check the monitors. She picked up Reid's chart.

Hotch nodded toward his young agent. "He wants to be extubated. Is that possible? I need to speak with him, but it can wait until it's safe."

The nurse put the chart back down and moved to Reid's side. "As I said last night, he's able to breathe on his own. The intubation was purely to ease up on him, not because it was necessary." She leaned over him and took the clear line in her hand. "Are you ready?"

Reid's hazel eyes flickered to Hotch's face, and the senior profiler could detect anxiety. He gave a reassuring nod and Reid looked back at the nurse, giving a tiny nod. He couldn't move very well.

"Okay, I'll count to three." She gripped the tubing and Reid tensed. "One, two, _three._"

It slid out in one slick movement. She pulled it away and Reid started coughing and choking immediately. Hotch stiffened, leaning forward, but the nurse held up one hand.

"It'll pass, give him a second."

Sure enough, Reid calmed down soon after, his breath raspy and shallow. He sank back into the pillows.

"I can't give him water yet," the nurse said, "due to the injury to his stomach. His throat will be dry and he might sound raspy when he talks, but it'll pass. Don't let him consume anything orally. Call again if something changes." She was gone again.

"H-how is…" Reid paused to cough, and Hotch winced. His voice sounded so dry.

"Morgan's recovering," Hotch said before the younger profiler could continue straining his voice. "He wants to see you." He waited a few minutes while Reid tried to take deep breaths. He was watching the wall with half-lidded eyes.

"Do you think you can make it through a cognitive?" Hotch prodded, trying to sound gentle. The young agent made a soft, pained noise of consent. Hotch pressed a hand to his shoulder. "Relax."

The order was obeyed and the tension left Reid's body. He looked away from the wall to watch Hotch as he spoke.

"Think back," Hotch murmured softly, "right after I sent you and Morgan out to Wagner's home to interview him. You left around midnight; what do you remember?"

It took Reid a few moments to build up the strength to speak again. "Morgan drove," he rasped faintly, "I was so tired… think I fell asleep."

"Then what?" Hotch prodded quietly.

"Got to his house… there were no lights on." He was speaking slowly, but Hotch remained patient. "Went to the door and knocked… he answered, let us is and turned on the light. House was kinda weird…"

"Weird how?" Hotch had seen the house; he hadn't profiled it, but maybe Reid had.

"Some parts were so clean and some parts were dis… disorganized." He paused, coughing. Hotch wished he could give him some water. "The couch was rumpled… pillows mussed up. Shelves were organized."

"So you think Damon Wagner lived in an unorganized fashion," Hotch said. Reid nodded slightly.

"Like we… like we profiled. But…"

"But you think his partner could've tried to keep things neat, to some extent at least."

"Yeah," Reid mumbled, fighting the drowsiness. He could tell the morphine was wearing off and he was getting uncomfortable. He coughed again, feeling the stitches in his midriff pull. He cringed, unbroken hand clenching the sheets in a white-knuckled grip. Hotch rested his hand on the railing of the bed.

"We can continue later, Reid. Try and get some sleep."

He didn't reply, settling into the sheets and exhaling harshly. Hotch frowned.

JJ walked in after a few minutes and Hotch looked up in surprise. "Done already?"

She nodded. "Not good, Hotch. There's already been news of 'two FBI agents rescued from serial killer in unknown condition'. What are we going to do?"

"We can't leave them here, but we need to be working this case. We need to wrap it up and catch these guys; the longer they're out there, the more people they're going to kill and we can't have that. We're going to have to have the cops watch Morgan and Reid."

"I can stay with Garcia," she said quietly, "She has her laptop and I'm sure she can help from here. I don't feel comfortable leaving them here. You, Rossi, and Emily would be fine in the field wouldn't you?"

He hesitated. "Stay with them, then. Be careful. I'll call you as soon as we get something." He gave Reid one last glance, then left the room. JJ settled into the chair, resting her elbow on the mattress and propping her chin on her palm.

* * *

"I really want to go see him," Morgan said grouchily, fingers rapping on his knee. The nurse had allowed him to prop up so he was now half-sitting, half-lying down. He watched Garcia as she shook her head.

"No can do handsome, not yet anyway. But if it's any comfort, the bosses are gone so it's just gonna be you and me for a little while." She raised one perfectly-groomed brow suggestively and Morgan smirked weakly.

"Ah, if only I had full use of my limbs, the things I would do to you," he purred.

Garcia grinned, rifling through her bag until she found a candy bar. "Chocolate for my chocolate?"

He squirmed to get upright, reaching for the treat eagerly. "You, woman, are a _goddess."_

"Tell me something I don't know," she laughed, handing him the candy.

* * *

"Hi, I'm here to visit… is it visiting hours, right?"

The receptionist looked up to see a dark-haired woman standing in front of her desk, awkwardly holding the strap of her tote bag. "Name?" she asked dully, fingers poised over her computer.

"Two, actually. Derek Morgan and Spencer Reid."

Her fingers flew over the keyboard. "Rooms 1006 and 1007. They're right next to each other, you can't miss it."

"Thank you," the woman replied politely, "and, ah, is there a restroom?"

"Down the hall on the left side."

The woman nodded and headed back, slipping into the restroom. Locking herself in a stall, she opened her tote bag and pulled out a set of pale, lavender scrubs. She changed quickly, leaving her bag in the stall. She'd have to hurry.

Leaving the bathroom, she continued down the hall until she reached room 1006. Stepping inside, she cleared her throat and prepared her best authoritative voice. Derek Morgan and an eccentric looking blonde woman looked at her sharply. She smiled, gesturing to Garcia.

"Can I have you step out for a moment, please?"

Blinking, Garcia stood and stepped out of the room. The woman shut the door, turning to Morgan.

"Good morning Derek," she said conversationally as she stepped up to the counter. She pulled a paper cup from the shelf and poured water from the pitcher.

"Good morning," he replied slowly, sitting up straighter. "What've you got for me?"

She turned toward the sink, away from him, and pulled a tiny container from her pocket. She tipped the liquid into the paper cup and stuffed the vial back into her pants. She turned, smiling brightly. "Water… you must be thirsty. I'm going to check your charts while I'm here." She handed him the cup and he took it in his good hand, sipping it slowly.

She picked up his medical chart and scanned it over while he worked on the water. She set the clipboard down and took the empty cup from him when he was done. "Better?"

"Yeah, thanks," Morgan replied, "hey, can you check on my friend for me? I can't seem to get any news about him. Last name's Reid."

"Oh, Spencer," she said quickly, "I just saw him before I came in here. He was sleeping, but his vitals are good." She was a talented liar, she knew, and Derek's eyes watched her for only a second before he settled back again.

"Okay," he said slowly, "thanks." He had no reason not to trust her; she was a nurse, or so she appeared, and she had checked his information and given him water. No reason for mistrust.

She smiled again. "I'll send your friend back in."

She left the room and gestured toward the door for Garcia, who nodded once and reentered the room. She made her way to the next room over and prepared to repeat the process.

"I'm sorry miss, could I have you step out for a moment?"

JJ watched her curiously, "are you sure I can't stay?"

"It'll only take a minute."

The blonde haired liaison patted Reid's broken hand gently and stood. She gave the nurse a curious look and stepped out, shutting the door behind her. The woman repeated the process she had done in Morgan's room, and stepped up beside Reid with a paper cup in hand. She touched his shoulder gently.

"Can you wake up for me, sweetie?"

He stirred, rousing himself from sleep and he blinked at her slowly.

"I'm going to give you some water, okay? And I'm going to check your vitals."

"I thought I…" he paused, coughing. "I thought I wasn't supposed to drink anything."

"It's okay," she encouraged gently, "it's just water. Your throat must be so dry." She helped him drink slowly, encouraging him silently.

His stomach did a pained roll when the water hit and he cringed. "Ugh…"

His throat did feel better, though. His voice was stronger when he spoke. "Thanks."

She nodded, glancing at his medical chart before setting it back down. "I have to go now, I'll send your friend back in." She left, and JJ slipped past her to get back to her seat at Reid's side.

The dark-haired woman went back to the bathroom, picking up her bag where she'd left it and changing rapidly. She powerwalked back to the front of the hospital, murmured a thanks to the receptionist and strode outside, fingers dialing rapidly on her cell phone. He answered on the third ring.

"Damon? I'm finished."

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**HOLY motherballs. What did I just do? **

**OKAY I have no idea how hard/easy it is to get into a hospital to visit someone. I really don't, so I'm sorry if it's wrong. Bear with me. **

**Hey, do any of you guys follow the CM cast on twitter? They all tweet aside from "JJ" and "Morgan". They're really funny and they post tons of behind the scenes photos and stuff.**

**This chapter: so I lied in my author notes last chapter; we didn't get around to Damon and Ricky using the agents' badges. It'll happen soon, but now we got this crazy bitch doing something. What did she do? **

**Next chapter: Who is this woman, and what did she do? We'll find out where Damon and Ricky are heading, find out what Hotch, Rossi, and Emily are doing and what they're finding out. JJ and Garcia will be make a surprising realization about their boys. **

**As always, read, enjoy, review, and let me know what you think. **

**Until next time, (I'm always tempted to go Optimus Prime here and say 'til all are one' what the hell?)**

**- Sharky**


	8. Chapter 8

**I am a writing machine. Sometimes I stun myself with my own badassery.**

**I love all you readers/reviewers. Marry me. **

**PS. I watched Paranormal activity tonight. Wasn't scary, but I liked it.**

**My apologies for any typos, I was too lazy to proofread this six times like I normally do.  
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_**Jeux D'esprit – Chapter 8**_

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Ricky stared at the badge in his lap and he bit his lip, holding the phone to his ear nervously. When the voice answered, he felt his heart speed up.

"Hi," he started weakly, "I'm Agent… Dr. Spencer Reid, can I be directed to someone in the," he paused, squinting at the badge, "behavioral analysis unit?"

He heard typing, then the voice spoke again. _"ID number and security clearance code?" _

Damon nodded encouragingly at him and Ricky leaned in to get a better look at the badge, hoping he didn't mispronounce anything. They would know something was up if he didn't know the numbers. He rattled off the codes and the person at the FBI office paused.

"_Hold please." _

Damon smiled, and Ricky shifted uncomfortably until another person answered the phone with a cheery _"BAU, Quantico."_

Ricky launched back into his act immediately, trying to make his voice sound shy. Dr. Reid had sounded soft-spoken. "Hi, this is Dr. Spencer Reid. Can I have someone look something up for me in the computers?"

"_Of course sir,"_ the man replied politely, _"what do you need?" _

"I need to know prison sentences," Ricky replied quickly, "for a man having killed four women and four men. I also need to know how long a partner would serve as well."

Again, he heard the harsh typing of keys on the other end before he heard a response. _"These would be first-degree homicides?" _

"Yes," Ricky responded quickly. The other man typed a few more keys.

"_The murderer would likely get life, if not the death penalty. The partner would likely get 20-to-life, depending." _

Ricky turned to Damon, who tightened his hands on the steering wheel of the truck. Ricky spoke again quickly, "and… what if you added sabotage and intention-to-murder two figures of authority?"

"_Authority as in…?" _

"FBI agents," Ricky murmured helplessly. The man on the other end paused significantly.

"These are odd questions Dr. Reid," he said, "I thought you knew most of this. And, has your team or members of your team been compromised? I can alert the director if needed."

"No," Ricky nearly squeaked, "hypothetical. We guessed, uh, we _profiled _that these guys might want to take us out. They seem the type, you know?"

"_Of course, agent,"_ The agent sounded hesitant, and Ricky felt discomfort mounting.

"I need to go," he murmured, "thank you for your help."

"_Of course,"_ the agent repeated, hanging up. Ricky dropped the cell phone into the center console, snapping Reid's ID closed and tossing it to Damon.

"Did you hear?" Ricky asked Damon, sounding fearful. "Life or death penalty… twenty years to life for me."

Damon held the wheel in a white-knuckled grip. "Well," he said coldly, sounding detached, "we just need to make sure Linda isn't found out. We wouldn't want your poor fiancée to share our fate, do we?"

Ricky felt a stab of fear. "Please, Damon, we have to be careful with her… it's bad enough you dragged her into this, she can't be caught."

"She won't be," Damon growled confidently, pressing down harder on the gas. A nearby freeway sign indicated that they were heading toward Winchester General- the hospital.

"We'll get her out of there."

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"It's useless," Emily said after a while of sifting through the files back at the police department, "we don't have enough to go on." She shoved the folder away from her and looked up at Rossi and Hotch.

The latter was pacing slowly back and forth, shaking his head. "Damon Wagner. He's the primary unsub- the killer, the disorganized one. He's most likely suffering psychotic episodes. We still don't know the trigger. If only we could get his partner's name…"

"Morgan said he caught the name _Ricky, _but no last name," Rossi added, rapping his fingers against the wooden surface of the table, "Garcia checked and couldn't find a suspicious Ricky anywhere near Winchester."

Emily looked up. "Couldn't Ricky be a nickname for Richard?"

"Could be," Hotch agreed, "but Damon Wagner didn't have any connections to, well, anyone really. If his partner's name is Richard, they aren't related. Maybe old friends."

"They have to have something," Rossi grouched, "who owned the warehouse we found them in?"

Emily sighed. "That's just the thing, _nobody. _It was public property that was totally abandoned. They took advantage of a convenient location."

"Damon has a nasty record, but we've already checked out all we could on him. His home, cell phone records, _everything," _Emily's voice was agitated.

"He has no connections. Could he have changed his name?" Hotch asked. Rossi shook his head.

"Garcia would've found it by now."

"He went to extreme lengths to avoid having connections then," Hotch muttered darkly, "we have to find the partner. If we find the partner, we find Damon. Ricky is the submissive of the two, he'd be easier to crack anyway. We need to find him and bring him in, it'll be easier from there."

Rossi stood to review the victim-board again, and Hotch sat down next to Emily. He opened the file again and the female agent sighed harshly.

"Here we go again."

"But at a completely new angle this time," Hotch replied bitterly.

* * *

Garcia played solitare on her cell phone, texting JJ back and forth when the other blonde deigned to reply. The computer tech was bored; Morgan had fallen asleep nearly an hour ago and she was running out of things to do. But she couldn't leave him. She'd considered switching rooms with JJ for a while, but the liaison had said to give her a while longer.

Garcia moved the cards and nearly won when her phone vibrated harshly with a new text. She opened it eagerly.

_Sent from: Jayje_

_-- He's sick, I called a nurse. She said to check Morgan- wake him up & check temp, let me kno what u got. Call nurse if he's warm._

Garcia reread the text before she slipped the phone into her blouse pocket. She leaned forward and shook Morgan's shoulder.

"Wake up, sexy," she commanded, her voice harsher than usual. She brushed her palm against his neck and her skin came away damp with sweat. She hit the call button for a nurse and texted JJ with her findings.

A familiar nurse entered in under a minute, her demeanor all business. "I heard about the other agent, we're concerned this one's going to have the same thing. Does he have a temperature?"

"I, uh, he felt warm," Garcia stumbled, standing. "Is something wrong? What's going on with Reid?"

"I don't know exactly yet because I was only told of it, I wasn't his acting nurse, but she was called in by agent Jareau… my colleague noticed something was wrong immediately and right after you called she told me to check agent Morgan for mercury poisoning."

"I… what- _excuse me?_" Garcia wasn't normally at such a loss for words, but she was so stunned she had no clue. Her mind was working overtime.

Morgan was stirring, and he looked at the nurse with a grimace. "Did I get hit by a _freakin _truck?" he groaned, his voice wavering. Garcia moved forward but the nurse held up a hand to keep her back.

"Hurts like a bitch," Morgan grouched with a grimace, arms folding around his torso. His skin glistened with a sheen of sweat and he was wincing. His breath started coming in rasps and the nurse immediately turned to Garcia.

"I'm going to need you to step out," she said, before pulling a pager from her pocket. "Dr. Linnel, this is Jackie, I need you to report to room 1006 immediately, please. We have a situation- suspected mercury poisoning."

Garcia was ushered out of the room when Dr. Linnel and two more nurses brushed past her, closing the door. In a near panic, she padded down the hall to the room next door, where she could see JJ. The door was open, so she leaned in to see Dr. Ruiz and two nurses moving around frantically. One nurse waved an arm at JJ, and the liaison turned and left the room, her expression crumpled in worry.

She brushed by Garcia and sat in one of the plastic chairs outside the room. Garcia sank down beside her, dark eyes wide with worry and confusion.

"Jayje what the _hell _happened?"

JJ's tired blue eyes met hers. "I don't even know, Pen. He was dozing when that nurse left and not ten minutes after I came back, he was completely awake and saying he didn't' feel well. And I guess by 'don't feel well' he meant _burning pain _because that's what he described shortly before he started hacking blood into his functioning hand. I called the nurse and when they all got there, they kicked me out."

"How could this have happened?" Garcia asked miserably, her dark eyes misty with unshed tears. "We've been with them the whole time, until that one nurse kicked me out for a few minutes."

"In lavender? Yeah, she made me leave for a few too but that was it."

"I hadn't seen her before, I don't even know why I had to leave," Garcia murmured, and JJ sat up straighter, eyes widening in horror. She heard the door open behind her and she turned to see Dr. Ruiz exiting, her scrubs flecked with blood.

"Dr. Ruiz, did you have a nurse assigned to our agents that was wearing lavender and has dark brown hair… short, like in a shoulder-length bob?"

"She had dark eyes, I think," Garcia added. Dr. Ruiz thought for a moment, before shaking her head wearily.

"No," she said softly, "I believe you've already met all their nurses… they each only had the two. Why?"

"A nurse came into both their rooms today and told us to wait outside," JJ said, "could she have poisoned them?"

"Give me a moment, please," the doctor replied hurriedly, walking away. JJ's brow furrowed but Garcia tapped her shoulder. The nurses opened Reid's door again and the two blondes slipped in.

One of the nurses looked at them, shaking her head. "We're pretty sure it's mercury. He was coughing, it tore the stitches so that was the blood you saw earlier… as of right now, we don't suspect any internal bleeding. There's respiratory distress, but not bad enough to intubate."

The other nurse injected something into an IV line and nodded at her partner. "He's stable for now, he should be okay with you for a while. Call if anything gets worse." They left and the two agents looked at each other.

Dr. Ruiz returned then, her face pale. "My receptionist says a woman fitting your description came in this morning as a visitor to your agents. She has the security footage, and she sent it to the emergency email you put down when you got in."

"Thank you," Garcia said quickly.

JJ looked at her sharply. "Can you get a facial recognition from your laptop?"

"My laptop system isn't as good as my setup at Quantico, but if she's local I should be able to pick it up." She was already heading to the door to pick up her laptop case from Morgan's room.

"I'll call Hotch and tell the others," JJ said, casting Reid's restless form another worried glance before drawing her phone from her pocket and slipping out of the room, touching her fingers to the speed dial.

* * *

"You're sure, JJ?" Hotch demanded sharply. Rossi and Emily looked up at him as soon as he'd answered the phone.

"If you can get her name, we might get the connection we need."

"_Garcia's a miracle worker, remember. She's already _got _a name. Linda Waterhouse. Garcia says she's engaged to a man named Richard Hopkins… he supposedly lives in New Jersey, that's why we couldn't find him." _

"We have our partner then," Hotch said, nodding at Emily and Rossi. "anything to tell us where they're going?"

"_Both Damon and Ricky have nothing… they were careful on this. Linda owns a small office just outside of Winchester. It's supposedly empty, but I don't see why they wouldn't go there as a safe-house, as least for a while." _

The relief that crossed Hotch's face was, for once, unconcealed. "We have them, then. We're going to head over there now. Can you send us the address?"

"_Garcia said to have Emily check her phone, it should already be there." _

Emily picked up her mobile, brows arched. "Right here."

"We're heading out then JJ, hold tight," Hotch was about to snap the phone closed when JJ spoke again.

"_Wait- the woman we found that checked up on Morgan and Reid poisoned them with Mercury. The doctors say they're stabilized for now but they said it could be a struggle to treat." _

There was a stunned silence as the news was absorbed.

"_Just take them in Hotch, and get over here as soon as you can." _

"Of course JJ," Hotch replied grimly, "we'll be there as soon as we can. Keep them safe." It was a childish request, but one he felt necessary to make. He turned to Rossi and Emliy. The former already had the keys in his hand.

"Let's hurry," Hotch said needlessly; and they were gone.

* * *

**Linda is a bitch. **

**I named her after my mother, whom I actually get along with fairly well. :D **

**Shorter chapter this time, my apologies. **

**This chapter: so Linda is engaged to Ricky. She is helping him who is helping Damon murder married couples. Anybody have some guesses as to what the HELL IS GOING ON? Morgan and Reid have mercury poisoning, we'll see how that goes down in a bit. **

**Next chapter: Wrapping things up, hopefully. Maybe one or two more chapters for this fic, guys. **

**Please read, enjoy, and review. (: Your feedback makes me so so so happy. **

**Until next- screw it, **

**TIL ALL ARE ONE, **

**- Sharky (I feel so badass typing the above Optimus Prime quote.)**


	9. Chapter 9

**Sorry it took so long- boyfriend's a douchebag and wanted to fight with me for days about how I don't spend enough time with him. So I've been suffering silently while he's been dragging me to his garage to watch him and his friends play music. Boooorring. BUT we saw Nightmare on Elm Street on Saturday! I had my legs in his lap and I kicked him in the crotch twice when I jumped HAHA revenge is sweet. ;) **

**& Guess who's taking Crime Scene Investigation as a class next year? :P I'll be a big bad senior kid-cop, bwaha! I hope they give us guns. Fear me. **

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_**Jeux D'esprit – Chapter 9**_

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Damon Wagner eased the truck into the driveway of the tiny cabin-office Linda owned just on the outskirts of Winchester. He turned the engine off and all went silent, aside from the gentle clicking of the cooling metal. He nodded once to Ricky, and the younger man opened the door, stepping back quietly to open the back door for Linda. She eased out just as quietly, her brows drawn together and her dark eyes concerned.

Damon did a quick sweep of the area before he allowed himself to leave the vehicle.

"Let's go," he murmured authoritatively, making his way toward the entrance of the house. The others followed him, looking suspicious.

Linda brushed past him to slip her key into the door. It opened with a quiet click, and the three stepped into the cabin. Linda flipped on the nearest light switch, and two figures wielding guns were revealed in the room. She stumbled back into Ricky's chest with a wild gasp, and the man turned, pulling her wrist frantically. Damon shouted something that they couldn't hear over the sound of the trespassers' approaching footsteps.

"FBI," one called, and Damon looked up sharply and allowed his eyes to meet the vicious eyes of agent Hotchner. They stared at each other for a moment before Damon pushed Ricky and Linda out of the way, bolting. Hotch darted after him immediately, while Rossi stepped toward the downed criminals. Linda stayed sprawled on the ground but Ricky moved to stand, backing into a solid object. He whirled to meet Emily's harsh glare.

"You're under arrest," she said, pulling her cuffs from her belt and getting them on his wrists quickly, "but you already knew that, didn't you?"

Rossi cuffed a less-resistant Linda and the two agents held the arms of their captives. "Let's take them to the car," he said, "we can wait for Hotch there."

They made their way to the SUV that had been parked around back and out of sight, guiding their criminals into the back seats and leaving them handcuffed. Rossi moved around to the drivers' seat and Emily slipped into the passenger side, watching him.

"Do you think Hotch will need help?" she asked. Rossi shook his head.

"No, he's got it."

-x-

Hotch chased Damon almost half a mile before he got close enough to tackle him. He lunged forward, taking the murderer down with him. The men struggled for a few moments until Damon kneed Hotch in the chest, pushing the agent off of him and scrambling to his feet.

He took off again but Hotch was up again in moments, pursuing.

"Stop, dammit!" Hotch snarled uncharacteristically, but Damon didn't listen. Survival- and escape- were all that mattered. Hotch's entire demeanor shifted to a full, no-nonsense _rage_ and he lifted his gun, aiming carefully. He knew he was an excellent shot.

The bullet rang out and as expected, Damon stumbled harshly before he collapsed, cursing wildly. Hotch jogged up to his cringing form and knelt down, cuffing him.

"Bastard," Damon snapped, aching to press his hands to his bleeding thigh. Hotch smiled grimly when he noticed the wound he'd inflicted matched the one Reid had caused on his other leg. But where Reid's had been a light graze, Hotch's had been dead-on and crippling.

"A matching set," He commented, gesturing. Damon snarled at him. "How fitting." He grabbed Damon's arm and hauled him up, supporting the injured man's weight.

"Well then," Hotch said dryly when Damon didn't speak, "let's get you to the hospital. I have some agents that I'm sure would love to talk to you."

* * *

Hotch stormed into the hospital nearly a half-hour later, dragging Damon Wagner by the arm. The criminal's hands were still cuffed firmly behind his back and his expression was vicious. They walked up to the front and Hotch nodded toward his captive.

"Gunshot wounds, two of them."

Damon was taken back a few minutes later, but Hotch left him with the handcuffs on. Satisfied for now, he headed back to see Garcia and JJ. He found both blondes seated in the hall outside the downed agents' rooms.

"Why are you out here?" He asked suspiciously as he approached. They looked up at him.

"We were giving the guys a minute," JJ said, her expression weary. "The doctors' just cleared them again for visitors but they were in trouble for a while."

"I'm sure I can explain it to you," Dr. Linnel said, striding up to them. Dr. Ruiz followed close behind. "Both of your agents were given a liquefied form of mercury- it was highly toxic, but we caught it very early because symptoms appear fairly quickly. They were in serious trouble and we were thinking of putting them on life support, but it proved unnecessary. We gave them both activated charcoal, which absorbed most of the poison from their bodies. Whatever residue is left will work itself out of their systems within the next few days, but I don't think there will be any serious repercussions."

"Are they going to be alright?" Hotch asked, a frown touching his stern face.

"I believe so, yes," Dr. Ruiz said, nodding at someone over their shoulders'. The agents turned to see a nurse pushing Morgan toward them in a wheelchair. The injured agent smiled lazily at them. At Hotch's questioning look, he explained.

"Well, you weren't going to take me," he grouched, "so I sweet-talked her into doing it."

"He's quite persuasive," the nurse said dryly, "but I'm taking him to your other agent's room if you want to follow."

The girls moved to follow but Hotch paused near the two doctors', eyeing them carefully. "Thank you," he said, "for saving them."

They nodded politely and he followed the other agents to Reid's room. He was pleasantly surprised to see Reid propped up and awake, with Morgan parked at his side. JJ and Garcia stood close by.

There were no nurses in the room, so Hotch approached his agents and got to the point. "We got them."

His tone was relieved, and all tension seemed to leave the room as once.

All four looked at him quickly.

"Both of them?" Reid asked weakly, and Hotch shook his head.

"All _three._ Including the woman who gave you both the poison. Rossi and Prentiss took them down to the station."

"Are we gonna get to talk to them?" Morgan asked, brow furrowed. "I want to interrogate those bastards myself."

"I'm going to question them," Hotch said, "but when you and Reid are released, you can do it too."

"Enough about that," JJ spoke up, her voice taking on a familiarly cheerful tone that they hadn't heard in a while, "how are you both feeling?"

"I'm so doped up, I don't feel anything until I move this leg," Morgan replied, "or my arm, but hey, I'm not complaining. I'm just glad we're still alive."

"How can you say that when I feel tired, sore, and sick in general?" Reid murmured grouchily.

"Spence, you _said_ you didn't want to be 'doped up'," JJ scolded gently, "and I'm proud of you for not following druggie-Morgan's example." Reid smiled when Morgan started to protest.

Garcia patted Reid's arm affectionately. "Just a few more days in here boy wonder, then we can take you home. I know you look forward to that, right?"

"Not until I get to talk to Wagner and the other two," The young agent replied lightly, "I want to see find out what his personal motive was for attacking Morgan and I the way he did."

"You'll get that chance, Reid," Hotch said, "but rest up for now so that you two can be released as soon as you can."

Reid settled back into the pillows and Morgan punched his shoulder. Reid glared at him, and the older agent laughed.

"Sleep tight pretty boy, so I can have the girls here all to myself."

Reid ignored Morgan because he knew the older man was just glad they were okay, and he waved one hand dismissively and closed his eyes. JJ and Garcia looked up at Hotch.

"You can stay here," the unit chief said, "I'm going to go down to the station to help Rossi and Prentiss."

The girls looked back at the boys and Garcia grinned wolfishly, her eyes tracing Morgan's seated frame heatedly. "Come here, handsome."

* * *

Ricky looked up when the dark-haired agent entered the interrogation room. The man's almost black eyes glared at him harshly, and he wished he could disappear into the ground.

"So," Hotchner said blandly, "I hope you're going to tell me something useful." He took a seat across from Ricky and threw the case file down on the table. Ricky avoided eye contact.

"What do you want to know?" He asked quietly, and Hotch raised one dark brow.

"First of all, I need you to know that you failed. Both of our agents survived your attack and are recovering."

"I didn't want them dead," Ricky said bitterly, "I didn't want any of this."

"Care to explain?"

"The reason I'm involved in this at all," the young man started warily, "is because Damon threatened me. I've known him for a long time; we went to school together. A few years ago he started getting… different. It involved this girl, Alison… Talbert, I think her last name was. I don't know details because he never told me, but they were getting married. And then suddenly, she was gone and he went nuts." Ricky paused, taking a deep breath.

"She left him. What did this lead to?" Hotch asked patiently.

"We stopped talking for a while because of his weird attitude. Then he calls me out of the blue one night, and says 'Rick, I need your help.' I didn't know what he was talking about so I asked, 'what do you mean?' and he says 'I killed some people, Ricky, and I need your help cleaning it up'. It was a shock."

Hotch's eyes narrowed. "What did you do?"

"I helped him," Ricky replied guiltily, "I didn't think about it, I just did. And then soon he'd killed two more people, then two more, and he started calling me his partner. I never wanted that." He pressed his hands to his face, looking weary. "God, I helped him get away with murder for weeks."

"But he didn't get away with it," Hotch said, "we got him. Explain how Linda is involved with this. She poisoned my agents after the wreck."

Ricky sighed, meeting Hotch's eyes for the first time. "After a while, Damon's rage started shifting. He targeted it toward me. He started saying that he was going to kill me and Linda next if we didn't cooperate."

"So you listened to him," Hotch said, "to protect her, and yourself."

"I couldn't lose her," Ricky said, "we're engaged. She means the world to me. I kept helping him. But when your FBI agents showed up on his doorstep, things went out of control."

Hotch leaned back in his chair. "What do you mean by that?"

"He heard that you guys were coming in to investigate the case," he said, "and he knew that if you guys were as good as we heard, you'd find him. So he tried to throw you off by calling himself a witness. He said he needed to know how far along you guys were. He didn't expect you to send agents out to interview him."

"What did he do?" Hotch was staying patient, and Ricky found himself relaxing more and more.

"He panicked. He said he wanted to put a car-bomb under their car. So when they went in to interview him, he had me place the bomb. He said if I didn't, Linda would be killed then I'd be killed after."

"So you did it," Hotch replied harshly, "then what?"

"He scratched a note into a metal sheet," Ricky murmured, "he was crazy. I put it under the car near the front. It said to stay off the case, something like that. It was triggered to explode when the brakes were hit. But the weather was bad, with the snow… we heard about the crash. He was pleased, yeah, but I felt sick at the thought of having killed two FBI agents. He sent me down to see if they were dead. They weren't, obviously."

"And later you both came back to retrieve them, taking them to that warehouse."

"Damon worked at the warehouse sometimes. He kept things there in storage, I don't know what, but we took them there and he had every intention of torturing information out of them but you guys showed up. I left the one guys cell phone on the table and he got to it."

Hotch's brow furrowed. "You left the cell phone on the table on purpose?"

"I figured he'd try to get to it if I left it out," Ricky said, "so I thought it better to get them out as soon as possible. I'd seen the results of Damon's work, but I had no desire to see his torture in action on two feds. The one guy looked like a teenager, and the other seemed pretty protective… not to mention angry."

Hotch leaned forward again, resting his folded hands on the table. Ricky leaned back instinctively, as though trying to distance himself from the intimidating agent. "You helped Damon clean up his murder scenes, but you never committed any yourself. You placed the bomb under my agents' car, but you went back to check on them. You helped them escape. And all of your negative actions were committed because you were under threat?"

"Yes," Ricky replied quietly.

Hotch nodded, standing. "We're done, then. I'm sure I'll see you again soon, Ricky."

The agent left, and Ricky was left to stare at his folded hands and wonder what was to come.

* * *

At the end of the week, the team found themselves packed into the SUV's and ready to head back to Quantico. They looked forward to the hour and a half drive as a chance to relax before getting back to work when they got home.

Rossi helped Morgan into the back of one of the vehicles, and the injured agent stretched out on the seats. He set his crutches on the floorboard and leaned against the window.

"Feels kinda weird being in here," he said lightly, "considering last time I was in a car, we wrecked it."

"Not your fault," Rossi replied, closing the door and making his way into the front and turning the engine on. "Focus on getting better now. We're going to need you at work."

"I live for work," Morgan replied sarcastically, drumming his fingers on the leather seat. "You sure Reid's alright?"

"He's been asking the same about you," Garcia said as she slipped into the passenger seat, turning to face Morgan. She was smiling, and the sight calmed Morgan immensely. She reached out one hand and he took it in his. She squeezed his fingers reassuringly.

"JJ's getting him something now, and Hotch and Emily are ready to go. Don't fret so much, my handsome man, we'll be home before you know it."

"I seriously look forward to it," Morgan replied, turning to look at the car behind them.

Hotch was in the driver's seat with Emily beside him. JJ jogged from the police station doors a few moments later with something in her hands and she slipped into the back seat. At her urging, Reid rested his legs across her lap so he could still lie down.

"Are they ready to go?" The blonde asked as she slipped the hot water bottle under Reid's rarely-worn tshirt, pressing the heated rubber against his heavily bandaged abdomen. He nearly hissed in relief, and JJ smiled at him. She pulled a plastic bottle of pills from her bag and held it up to him, and he eyed it carefully before shaking his head no. Feeling a soft, unexpected jolt of pride, the liaison slipped the tablets back into her bag.

"Yes," Hotch replied, turning the key in the ignition. The suburban roared to life and Emily buckled her seatbelt, turning to glance at the two in the back.

"You ready to go home, Reid?" She asked, eyeing him curiously.

"Home-home, or Quantico-home?" The young agent fired back, a faint smile gracing his tired face. The dark-haired woman laughed.

"Both, I guess. You know you have time off, no need to think about work yet."

"Please," Reid murmured, "without work, what else is there to do?"

JJ shook his head, patting his knee. "You need a hobby."

Reid blinked. "I have a hobby. Profiling."

Emily rolled her eyes and JJ grinned before muttering quietly, "our attempts are futile."

Hotch shook his head and put the car in drive, following the others as Rossi took to the road. They were in for a long drive, but there were no complaints. They were home, safe and sound, finally, and the unsubs had been caught.

Now, however, came perhaps the hardest part of the entire ordeal.

* * *

**Sorry that took so long, guys. ): **

**As I said, I've had no time recently because my boyfriend is a TIME BANDIT. He steals my free time and uses it for naught! Whatever.**

**This chapter: skipped ahead a little, got the boys out of the hospital and on their way home. So now we know why Ricky and Linda were involved.**

**Next Chapter: will be the last, I hope I can make it long but it seems like it will probably be pretty short. I had wanted this chapter to be longer but this was as far as I could drag it out to be. We'll interview Damon and see what his crazy story is. We'll wrap things up and see how Morgan and Reid come out of this ordeal.**

**So, please read, enjoy, and review. Let me know what you think, please point out any typos/errors (gently!) and let me know of any suggestions for the last chapter. I'm going to update my other fic soon for those who are interested. **

**Til next time,**

**- Sharky**


	10. Chapter 10

**I GOT A JOB. Does anyone know of Chick-fil-a? You should go there because it's amazing and if you live in Southern California, come visit me! I'll be that short girl with the super impossibly high up two-colored brown/black ponytail who's smiling all the time. If you actually live in SoCal and are interested, message me and I'll tell the location. XD**

**I wish I could've gotten this chapter out to you guys faster. **

**The reviews have been declining, so let's finish this off with a bang guys. (: I love you all.**

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_**Jeux D'esprit – Chapter 10**_

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The office seemed much quieter without Morgan's joking and Reid's rapid page-turning. Emily blinked, feeling alone despite the constant bustle of people around her. Gathering her files and paperwork, she stood. She smoothed her slacks with one hand and made her way to JJ's office. The door was cracked open, so she pushed in without knocking.

The blonde looked up sharply at the intrusion and opened her mouth to snap but calmed when Emily's dark, troubled eyes met her own. "Lonely?" the liaison asked, gesturing to the seat in front of her desk. The profiler sat, setting her papers on JJ's workspace.

"A little," Emily finally admitted, folding her hands in her lap. "I'm still trying to get used to it. Morgan's usually _loudly _picking on Reid and Reid's usually ignoring him and has paperwork flying because he's moving so fast. Now there's no talking around me and no shuffling. It's too quiet."

"Despite the fact that people are constantly moving through here and the phones are always ringing," JJ replied. "I know how you feel. I miss them too."

"Do you know when they're coming back?"

JJ frowned, looking troubled. "I'm not sure but things are slow right now and we need to be in Ohio on Monday… four days. It's going to be weird."

"And tough," Emily supplied. "We'll be two profilers short. What's the case?"

JJ shook her head. "Don't worry about it yet, it's not very urgent. Kidnappings, but no murders."

"Yet," Prentiss sighed, massaging her temple with one hand. The door opened again and Hotch looked in, his face marred by an unusually deep frown.

"Do any of you have any time to help with some paperwork?" He asked, gesturing with his chin to the papers stacked in his arms. Emily raised one dark brow.

"You usually do so well with paperwork," she joked gently, "what's wrong now?"

"I'm trying to do Reid and Morgan's too," he sighed, "I take for granted how fast Reid can fly through this."

"And Morgan usually sticks his on Reid's desk anyway," Emily replied dryly.

Hotch nodded. "It's taking Rossi and I considerably longer to get it done."

Emily stood again, throwing JJ a weary look. "Sure, I'll help. But JJ, you were the last to see the guys- what'd you do with them?"

"Oh," JJ blinked innocently, folding her hands on top of the desk. "I left them to keep each other company. They should be fine."

* * *

"Can you hand me the remote?"

Reid considered the rude responses he could make to Morgan's request. The older man had been in his apartment before; he could navigate through it perfectly well. Reid was confused as to why Morgan still insisted on trying to make him do everything. Tired of arguing, he loosed a resigned sigh and tossed the device at the senior agent who caught it in one hand.

"Thanks," Morgan said fondly, flipping through the channels. He had his bad leg propped up on the footrest that went with the recliner he was lounging in. It was comfortable, but he still somewhat envied Reid; the younger profiler was sprawled out on the couch under a mountain of blankets. JJ had put him there last night and he hadn't moved since. "What do you want to watch?"

It had been far too long since Reid had last taken his pills and he was irate. Morgan enjoyed every minute of it. "I don't care," Reid replied grouchily, "just pick something and stop flipping."

"Don't be a girl," Morgan replied, settling the channel on a documentary. The screen showed the ocean, and after a moment a beautifully patterned tiger shark appeared. Reid squirmed to sit up straighter to watch and Morgan found himself pressing the mute button. The younger man glared at him and Derek shook his head.

"We need to talk, Reid," he said, and expressionless hazel eyes met his own. "About what happened. I can tell you aren't all right with it."

"I'm fine," Reid murmured quickly, resting his chin on a fold in the blankets. He blinked innocently, but Morgan saw right past his façade.

"You're not," Derek replied evenly. "It's stressing you out. You heard what the doctor's said and I'm sure you knew it just as well beforehand. You need to calm down or you're not going to get better."

"I know, Morgan," came the tempered response. "It wasn't your fault, it wasn't my fault, so there's nothing to worry about alright?"

"Talk to me. I can tell something's bothering you."

Reid shivered once and folded his arms, burrowing. Morgan knew immediately that he'd gotten through to him and he leaned back in his seat to let the kid explain. It took him a few minutes, but he met Morgan's eyes warily. "I can still feel it."

Morgan frowned, but his eyes were kind. "Feel what, kid?"

Reid looked away. "Take your pick. I can feel… all of it, I guess. That tree branch... When I move now it hurts, and though I logically know it's because of the healing injury and the stitches and the surgery and all that, I can still _feel _that," he paused, searching for a word, "that _obstruction._ I can feel the branch there, killing me."

Morgan moved to speak but stopped himself; he needed to be patient and listen, as he knew, and let his colleague get it out. He leaned back in the recliner and continued to watch Reid as the younger man still refused to meet his gaze. He looked troubled.

"I remember trying to talk to you and only being able to get a mouthful of liquid. I remember the taste of blood that wouldn't go away. I remember the itchy, burning pain of an object embedded in my body where it didn't belong, pulling and tearing when I tried to move. But worst of all, I remember the fuzziness and not being able to think." He paused, now looking at Morgan almost desperately. "My mind is all I have going for me, Morgan, when I couldn't think… that scared me so bad."

"Reid," Morgan finally said quietly, his tone gentle. "That brain of yours isn't going anywhere. You always make it out okay, don't you? That's not even just smarts, that's _strength. _Despite how people treat you or how _I _treat you… even though you're stick-thin and I could snap you in two, you're strong. You're stronger than a lot of people." He shook his head, "I don't know if I could deal with everything that you have since you started this job. If I were you, I would've quit after Hankel. And _anthrax poisoning _without pain medication? Reid, that's pretty badass or pretty stupid. I'd say that's also pretty brave."

Reid winced at the mention of Tobias, but he didn't mention it. "Thanks, Morgan. I just… I don't really have a choice. This job is all I have, and I only have my job because of my, uh, smarts. What happens if someone hits me over the head one day and I forget everything? I'll be forever _useless_ to the FBI. I mean, they don't keep me around because I'm a good field agent or anything."

"If it's any consolation, I think all that hair will protect your head."

Reid made a face and Morgan couldn't help but grin. "But Reid," he sobered immediately, "you're damn good at what you do. Even if you didn't know what sharks' nose-sense things were -"

"ampullae of lorenzini?"

"… Yeah, that- you're still a damn good profiler and an excellent agent. If Hotch didn't think you were a good field agent he'd never send you out with a gun. And the fact that you want to return to the BAU after this, that makes you a stronger person than most."

"You're going back too."

"I was hit on the head, stabbed in the leg, and broke my shoulder blade. You were impaled by a two-inch thick tree-branch for hours and had your entire right side crushed. And this was my first incident like this."

"You forgot we were both poisoned with mercury," Reid added after a moment and Morgan shook his head.

"We should get some kind of award, man."

"I think my health-insurance is going to go up a lot."

Morgan grinned. "Yours? Hell yeah. You might start getting a frequent-customer discount at the hospital too."

Reid made a sour expression and moved to sit up. He flinched noticeably and folded his arms around his burning torso.

Morgan's expression softened again. "You don't always have to be so strong Reid. After all, we're on sick leave. Just relax and don't worry so much… if you need it, take it. You'll be fine. And Reid," he looked up at Morgan and the older agent continued quickly, "the job isn't all you have. You have me, and the whole team. We're a family, kid. Not just colleagues."

Reid didn't speak for a few moments but when he did, his tone was soft. He gestured to the end table by Morgan chair and asked, "Can you hand me those?"

The older agent smiled faintly and grabbed the bottle of Percocet, handing it to his friend who, for the first time since coming home from the hospital a few days before, took the pain-suppressing medication.

Morgan watched his partner sigh in relief as the medication took effect. Reid sank back into the embrace of the pillows and blankets on the couch and dozed off shortly after. Derek clicked the tv off and leaned back, closing his eyes and feeling confident that things would turn out alright after all.

* * *

That Sunday, Damon Wagner found himself excited for the day for the first time in nearly a week. He was almost grinning when the agents led him into the interrogation room and sat him down. Under Hotch's request, they hadn't cuffed him and Damon relished the small freedom. After sitting for what seemed like hours, the door opened and he was nearly squirming in excitement.

Morgan stepped into the interrogation room, and Damon delighted in the agent's well-concealed limp.

"How's your leg?" He asked curiously as Morgan sat down across from him. Derek didn't reply, but his face was stony. The anger that simmered just beneath the surface would've been unnoticeable to most, but Damon found it like a moth finds light. "You're angry," he pointed out needlessly, leaning back in his chair.

Morgan threw the case file - Damon's case file – down on the table. "Are you going to explain to me or is there someone specific you'll talk to?"

Damon tilted his head. "I'll tell you everything you want to know. But why doesn't your friend join you? The little one, you know who I mean."

Expressionlessly, Morgan turned to the one-way mirror and nodded. On the other side, Hotch turned to Reid. The youngest was sitting down by JJ, and he blinked when Hotch gestured for him to go inside. JJ helped push him upwards and he managed, somehow, to make it into the room without faltering. He felt much better, certainly, but he wasn't cleared to return to work. Interviewing Damon before he was taken away was just something he and Morgan needed to do, regardless of how they felt.

Pulling up a chair, Reid sank down beside Morgan, his usually warm hazel eyes almost gold in the harsh, sallow overhead lighting. Damon's skin looked grayish and he smiled. Reid shivered involuntarily and Damon lapped it up eagerly. "Cold?" he asked mockingly, and Reid tilted his head.

"A little, yes," he said coldly, choosing to ignore the taunting. "As I'm sure you're aware, we have some questions…"

"Why?" Morgan started immediately. He opened the file and spread pictures of Damon's murders across the table. "You killed women and their new husbands. Why did you do it?"

Damon's mocking expression shifted into a more serious one. "I'm sure Ricky told you."

"He told us about a woman named _Alison. _He said he didn't know much about her."

"I'm going to go away for a long time," Damon sighed, though he didn't sound too concerned. "I might as well tell my life story, hm? Ali was my life. I loved her with all of my heart."

"Technically, someone like you is incapable of love," Reid pointed out, but Damon scowled.

"Do you want me to tell you or not?"

Morgan nodded, and the murderer continued. "Ali and I had been friends for years. I loved her since the day I met her. For a while, things went well… we were engaged. I was so happy, and I thought she was too. We planned the wedding, I spent a fortune on the ring and everything was perfect."

"But things changed," Morgan guessed, and Damon's hands tightened to fists.

"She left me," Damon said, "suddenly. She said the wedding was off and she packed up and left me. She called later and told me she had found someone else who was more willing to live her lifestyle."

"Which was what?" Reid probed, feeling uneasy at being so close to a man who had tried to kill them.

"She wanted to travel, but I wanted to stay here in Virginia. She unhappily agreed, but she met this… guy, who she said wanted to see the world with her. So she left me for him."

"And then you started killing newlyweds." Morgan said flatly, and Damon shook his head furiously.

"It's not that simple!" He shouted, suddenly angry. Reid leaned back and Morgan touched his knee under the table.

"I can't explain the feelings, but they came. I started feeling angry, and I wanted to hurt someone. When I saw happy couples strolling the steets, I wanted to _hurt _them. I wanted them dead. I was alone one night when I saw a couple, so I just did it. I followed them home, broke in… tied him up, tortured him, raped and killed her cleanly," he said bluntly. "I didn't torture the women. I raped them because _I _was the one in control. Ali should've listened to me, the stupid bitch."

Morgan and Reid exchanged glances, and Reid leaned forward again, hands folded on the table. "Tell us one more thing…"

"What was your reason for attacking us specifically?" Morgan finished.

Damon's dark eyes glinted dangerously. "When I heard the FBI was coming to investigate, I knew I had to do something or you would find me. I called in as a witness to see where you guys were at. What I didn't anticipate was having you come out to my house after midnight to talk to me in person. I had Ricky set up the car bomb in case. When you showed up and demonstrated that you were a lot smarter than I thought, I knew I was right in being prepared. The bomb was designed to explode when you hit the brakes, which it did. Because of the weather, it also caused that… nasty accident. See, I hadn't really meant to hurt you at first. A clean death to keep you away would've been sufficient."

"But when you found us hurt," Reid said, "you came back to get us."

"Of course. You would've talked."

"You planned on torturing us," Morgan said.

"For information, yes. But I used your ID's to get that from the FBI headquarters. Isn't that where we are now, _Quantico?_ I feel special, getting to come _here _to be interviewed…"

"But then our team found us."

"Yeah, so I threatened Ricky and Linda into helping. Linda poisoned you both at the hospital."

"But in the end, you still lost. And how does that make you feel?" Morgan asked, sounding almost smug. Damon's mouth twitched in a frown.

"You know how it makes me feel. And don't think I won't get even. I _will. _You'll both get what's coming to you."

Satisfied, Reid stood and gathered the photos. Morgan made his way to the door. "I think we have all we need. Enjoy prison, Wagner. I hope you never see anything else but your cell for the rest of your days."

They could feel Damon's glaring eyes and vicious smile boring into their backs as they left.

* * *

"Good job, both of you," Hotchner greeted as his two agents stepped out of the room. Reid sank tiredly back into the seat he'd been in before and JJ leaned over, murmuring something quietly. Morgan met Hotch's eyes, mouth set in a grim line.

"He's seriously messed up, Hotch. I hope he goes away for life."

"He will," Hotch replied simply. "You did well. How are you feeling?"

"Better, but the meds help," Derek admitted. "Did you ever get our badges back from him?"

"Yes," Emily said, approaching quickly from the other side of the room with Rossi and Garcia in tow. "We took them off of him when he was taken to the PD in Winchester." She handed his credentials to him and Reid nearly snatched his from her other hand. She smiled.

"It's good to see you guys. When are you coming back to work officially?"

Reid beamed. "At the end of the week if all goes well."

"Good, we miss you guys down here," Rossi said. The words were simple, but Morgan blinked. They meant a lot coming from Rossi.

"We miss being down here," Morgan shrugged. "Sharing a house with Reid is not easy. All we do is argue all day and fight over what to watch on TV. He liked stupid animal documentaries."

"They aren't stupid. _Wrestling _is stupid." Reid countered. Morgan rolled his eyes.

Garcia shook her head. "Boys, behave. Since you guys need to get back and get some rest in a bit and we've got our baddie, why don't we go out for a little while? I miss my babies." Morgan kissed her cheek and she grinned, ruffling Reid's wild hair tenderly. He pushed her hand away, smoothing out the chestnut strands.

"Fine by me," JJ said, standing. "I'd love to get out of here for a few hours and it's good to see you guys. You up for it?"

"Yes," Morgan said cheerfully.

Reid narrowed his eyes. "I'll go, if you promise me one thing."

"Anything," Garcia replied immediately.

"Morgan does not get to drive."

* * *

**I seriously did not know how to end this. ): I hope that's satisfactory to all of you. Well it's past midnight and I have CA state testing at 8am. Wow I'm SO smart to be writing this right now but I miss all my emails from you guys, I miss your comments!**

**And I couldn't resist the shark-documentary and ampullae of lorenzini tidbits. –pokes username- I love sharks. **

**I love you all and if you like this, I'm working two other CM stories: one with a dinosaur unsub, and an as-of-yet-unposted JJ/Reid fic called 'Ashes of Our Lives' so if you're interested, be sure to put me on author alerts. I hope to have something else up soon!**

**Thanks for sticking with me on this journey, I appreciate any comments and I love you all!**

**Til I see you next, (and with much love)**

**- Sharky! **


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